BUFFALO  BILL' 
LIFE  STORY 

n  Autobiographtf 


&i^-^SiKU:'^i}^i^<M^i  /V/  ^y  :-^M? 


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I 


BUFFALO  BILL— COL.   WILLIAM   F.   CODY 


AN  AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF 

BUFFALO  BILL 

(COLONEL  W.  F.  CODY) 


ILLUSTRATED  BY 

N.  C.  WYETH 


NEW  YORK 


@iop()l[lan  Book;  (^oration 


1920 


^10^ 


Copyright,  1920,  by 
COSMOPOLITAN  BOOK  CORPORATION 


AVL  rights  reserved,  incliiding  that  of  translation 
into  foreign  languages,  including  the  Scandinavian 


gfte  <tttfam  Sc  goben  Company 

BOOK      MANUFACTURERS 
HAHWAY  NEW    JERSEY 


I 


Dedicated 

to 

My  Nephew  and  Niece, 

George  Cody  Goodman, 

Anna  Bond  Goodman, 

and  family. 


LIST   OF   ILLUSTRATIONS 

Buffalo  Bill — Col.  William  F.  Cody  .       .    Frontispiece 

FACING 
PAGE 

He  Shoved  a  Pistol  in  the  Man^s  Face  and  Said: 
'Tm  Calling  the  Hand  That's  in  Your  Hat''  .       55 

Chief  Santanta  Passed  the  Peace-Pipe  to  General 
Sherman  and  Said :  *  *  My  Great  White  Brothers ' '      87 

Winning  My  Name— '* Buffalo  Bill"       ...     125 

It  Was  No  Time  for  Argument.     I  Fired  and 
Killed  Him 175 

Pursued  by  Fifteen  Bloodthirsty  Indians,  I  Had 
a  Running  Fight  of  Eleven  Miles       .       .       .     209 

A    Shower    of    Arrows    Rained    on    Our    Dead 
Horses  from  the  Closing  Circle  of  Red-Men  .     283 

Stage-Coach  Driving  Was  Full  of  Hair-Raising 
Adventures 322 


CHAPTER  I 

I  AM  about  to  take  the  back-trail  through  the  Old 
West— the  West  that  I  knew  and  loved.  All  my 
life  it  has  been  a  pleasure  to  show  its  beauties, 
its  marvels  and  its  possibilities  to  those  who, 
under  my  guidance,  saw  it  for  the  first  time. 

Now,  going  back  over  the  ground,  looking  at  it 
through  the  eyes  of  memory,  it  will  be  a  still 
greater  pleasure  to  take  with  me  the  many  readers 
of  this  book.  And  if,  in  following  me  through 
some  of  the  exciting  scenes  of  )the  old  days,  meet- 
ing some  of  the  brave  men  >^|[o  made  its  stirring 
history,  and  listening  to  mVi^amp-fire  tales  of  the 
buffalo,  the  Indian,  the  staj|e-coach  and  the  pony- 
express,  their  interest  in  this  vast  land  of  my 
youth  should  be  awakened,  I  should  feel  richly 
repaid. 

The  Indian,  tamed,  educated  and  inspired  with 
a  taste  for  white  collars  and  moving-pictures,  is 
as  numerous  as  ever,  but  not  so  picturesque.  On 
the  little  tracts  of  his  great  inheritance  allotted 
him  by  civilization  he  is  working  out  his  owp 
manifest  destiny. 

The  buffalo  has  gone.  Gone  also  is  the  stage- 
coach whose  progress  his  pilgrimages  often  used 
to  interrupt.  Gone  is  the  pony  express,  whose 
marvelous  efficiency  could  compete  with  the  wind, 
but  not  with  the  harnessed  lightning  flashed  over 

1 


2         BUFFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STORY 

the  telegraph  wires.  Gone  are  the  very  bone- 
gatherers  who  laboriously  collected  the  bleaching 
relics  of  the  great  herds  that  once  dotted  the 
prairies. 

But  the  West  of  the  old  times,  with  its  strong 
characters,  its  stem  battles  and  its  tremendous 
stretches  of  loneliness,  can  never  be  blotted  from 
my  mind.  Nor  can  it,  I  hope,  be  blotted  from  the 
memory  of  the  American  people,  to  whom  it  has 
now  become  a  priceless  possession. 

It  has  been  my  privilege  to  spend  my  working 
years  on  the  frontier.  I  have  known  and  served 
with  commanders  like  Sherman,  Sheridan,  Miles, 
Custer  and  A.  A.  Carr — men  who  would  be  leaders 
in  any  army  in  any  age.  I  have  known  and  helped 
to  fight  with  many  of  the  most  notable  of  the 
Indian  warriors. 

Frontiersmen  good  and  bad,  gunmen  as  well  as 
inspired  prophets  of  the  future,  have  been  my 
camp  companions.  Thus,  I  know  the  country  of 
which  I  am  about  to  write  as  few  men  now  living 
have  known  it. 

Recently,  in  the  hope  of  giving  permanent  form 
to  the  history  of  the  Plains,  I  staged  many 
of  the  Indian  battles  for  the  films.  Through 
the  courtesy  of  the  War  and  Interior  Depart- 
ments I  had  the  help  of  the  soldiers  and  the 
Indians. 

Now  that  this  work  has  been  done  I  am  again 
in  the  saddle  and  at  your  service  for  what  I  trust 
will  be  a  pleasant  and  perhaps  instructive  journey 
over  the  old  trails.    We  shall  omit  the  hazards 


8u  uepiBUi  esoqA\.  *jei{;oTii  Aj'^    -ulibj  e^^^n  ^^^ 
snojedsojd  -^iJi^j  pn^  e^qBi^ojnioo  ej8i^  e^ 

•je^B^  pn^  d-Bos  puB 
^  OA^BS  Smq^^iTB  pxBi^o:^  iC;T|i:^sor[  on  9Joq  Xaq; 
[  -saniod  Jiaq:^  no  spBOi  9q:|,  Suoi^s  pado^  jo 
3j;s  o^BntA  eq:^  ^noqB  peqonots  ^9q:^  sb  qSnoua 
tABS  Siip[00i  *sn  ^TioqB  n^  suBipui  QidJA  ejeq:^ 
^  jaqraainej  i    'OTqo  m  :^i8A^p  n^  P^^  *jeq;oui 

SB  j{dM.  SB  ^o^doed  siq  pire  eg;  *e;B;g  jeii^nojj 
[8q^  SBAS.  ^Bqiii  o'\  p8:^Bj5pDC[9  pBq  *^po3  o-BBsi 
im  ^H  '9^81  '9S  Ajisjuqd^  ^b^oj  *^;nnoo 
)g   'jTB^oeq^  JBeu  uubj  -b  no  ujoq  svm.  j 

•qoTi  :^T  8i[Bni  o^  ueni  joj  p{J0^  e^oq^ 

nodn  pnB  ^exi:^jej  :^t  e5[Bin  o^  ja:^BAS.  eq:|.  joj 
B:^nnoui  eq^  nodn  ^nmBjp  *sai;TO  pipne^ds  pnB 
og  paonaj  *sppg-nTBj5  SniABM.  s:^t  q;m  *;saM 
^  9q^  JO  esunns  eq:; — esunns  :^b  eq  nm.  eoB^d 
:T:^][Bq  :}sbx  jno  pny    'jaTc^nojj  9q:^  jo  s:^n9ni9;px9 

SB  n®-^  SB  sioninq  9q:^  jo  9nios  noiC  Ai^oqs  n^^s 
•sj9X9abj:^  0^  pij9:^'Bj^  9jb  S9n90s  JO  s9SnBqo 
nb9Jj  JO  J  *X9njnoC  9q^  Xi'Ba  o;  Aj%  n^qs  j 

•iCjo:^siq  joj  xbtj9:^ 
I  AL9n  iC^ddns  0|  9J9I[:^  pnB  9J9q  ^xqissod  pnB 
^Nl  PIO  9^^  0^  ^s^A5l  ^9js[  9q^  jo  pnB  ^sb^  9q^  p 
:o9d  9q:^  Snuq  o;  odoq  i  ja.o^  "\vlq%  -b  J9pnn — 
g  9q:^  o:^  ^S9^  9q:^  ;q^nojq  9ABq  j  sjB9i£  J9;Bt 
[  nj  -nrBj^-noSBAiL  9q:^  no  nAiop  doo^is  s9;TnBQ 
njOH  oSbabs  9Jom  9q:^  qo^BAi  jo  'sAiBjp  9q!^ 

SnipniAi  snBipni  p9:^nTBd  9q:^  99S  *sniq  sq;  ^T 
?q  *pnB  snoj  nBninnj  9q:^  qoiqAV  j9A0  spBOJ  nojt 
[  eAB9X  n^qs  QM.  ne^jo  :^nq  ^sdiqspjBq  9q!^  pnB 


A^oxs  NAio  s.Tne:  OTY^^ma: 


4         BUFFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STORY 

life  of  the  neighborhood.  An  education  was 
scarce  in  those  days.  Even  school  teachers  did  not 
always  possess  it.  Mother's  education  was  far 
beyond  the  average,  and  the  local  school  board 
used  to  require  all  applicants  for  teachers'  posi- 
tion to  be  examined  by  her  before  they  were  en- 
trusted with  the  tender  intellects  of  the  pioneer 
children. 

But  the  love  of  adventure  was  in  father's  blood. 
The  railroad — the  only  one  I  had  ever  seen — ex- 
tended as  far  as  Port  Byron,  Illinois,  just  across 
the  Mississippi.  When  the  discovery  of  gold  in 
California  in  1849  set  the  whole  country  wild,  this 
railroad  began  to  bring  the  Argonauts,  bound  for 
the  long  overland  wagon  journey  across  the 
Plains.  Naturally  father  caught  the  excitement. 
In  1850  he  made  a  start,  but  it  was  abandoned — 
why  I  never  knew.  But  after  that  he  was  not 
content  with  Iowa.  In  1853  our  farm  and  most 
of  our  goods  and  chattels  were  converted  into 
money.  And  in  1854  we  all  set  out  for  Kansas, 
which  was  soon  to  be  opened  for  settlers  as  a 
Territory. 

Two  wagons  carried  our  household  goods.  A 
carriage  was  provided  for  my  mother  and  sisters. 
Father  had  a  trading-wagon  built,  and  stocked  it 
with  red  blankets,  beads,  and  other  goods  with 
which  to  tempt  the  Indians.  My  only  brother  had 
been  killed  by  a  fall  from  a  horse,  so  I  was  second 
in  command,  and  proud  I  was  of  the  job. 

My  uncle  Elijah  kept  a  general  store  at  Weston, 
Missouri,  just  across  the  Kansas  line.    He  was  a 


BUFFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STORY         5 

large  exporter  of  hemp  as  well  as  a  trader.  Also 
he  was  a  slave-owner. 

Weston  was  our  first  objective.  Father  had 
jdetermined  to  take  up  a  claim  in  Kansas  and  to 
begin  a  new  life  in  this  stirring  country.  Had  he 
foreseen  the  dreadful  consequences  to  himself  and 
to  his  family  of  this  decision  we  might  have  re- 
mained in  Iowa,  in  which  case  perhaps  I  might 
have  grown  up  an  Iowa  farmer,  though  that  now 
seems  impossible. 

Thirty  days  of  a  journey  that  was  a  constant 
delight  to  me  brought  us  to  Weston,  where  we  left 
the  freight- wagons  and  mother  and  my  sisters  in 
the  care  of  my  uncle. 

To  my  great  joy  father  took  me  with  him  on 
his  first  trip  into  Kansas — ^where  he  was  to  pick 
out  his  claim  and  incidentally  to  trade  with  the 
Indians  from  our  wagon.  I  shall  never  forget  the 
thrill  that  ran  through  me  when  father,  point- 
ing to  the  block-house  at  Fort  Leavenworth, 
said: 

*  *  Son,  you  now  see  a  real  military  fort  for  the 
first  time  in  your  life.''  And  a  real  fort  it  was. 
Cavalry — or  dragoons  as  they  called  them  then — 
were  engaged  in  saber  drill,  their  swords  flashing 
in  the  sunlight.  Artillery  was  rumbling  over  the 
parade  ground.  Infantry  was  marching  and 
wheeling.  About  the  Post  were  men  dressed  all 
in  buckskin  with  coonskin  caps  or  broad-brimmed 
slouch  hats — real  Westerners  of  whom  I  had 
dreamed.  Indians  of  all  sorts  were  loafing  about 
* — all  friendly,  but  a  new  and  different  kind  of 


a         BUFFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STOEY 

Indians  from  any  I  had  seen — ^Kickapoos,  Possa- 
watomies,  Delawares,  Choctaws,  and  other  tribes, 
of  which  I  had  often  heard.  Everything  I  saw 
fascinated  me. 

These  drills  at  the  Fort  were  no  fancy  dress- 
parades.  They  meant  business.  A  thousand 
miles  to  the  west  the  Mormons  were  running 
things  in  Utah  with  a  high  hand.  No  one  at  Fort 
Leavenworth  doubted  that  these  very  troops 
would  soon  be  on  their  way  to  determine  whether 
Brigham  Young  or  the  United  States  Government 
should  be  supreme  there. 

To  the  north  and  west  the  hostile  Indians,  con- 
stantly irritated  by  the  encroachments  of  the 
white  man,  had  become  a  growing  menace.  The 
block-houses  I  beheld  were  evidences  of  prepared- 
ness against  this  danger.  And  in  that  day  the 
rumblings  of  the  coming  struggle  over  slavery 
could  already  be  heard.  Kansas — ^very  soon 
afterward  ** Bleeding  Kansas" — was  destined  to 
be  an  early  battleground.  And  we  were  soon  to 
know  something  of  its  tragedies. 

Free-soil  men  and  pro-slavery  men  were  then 
ready  to  rush  across  the  border  the  minute  it  was 
opened  for  settlement.  Father  was  a  Free-soil 
man.  His  brother  Elijah  who,  as  I  have  said,  was 
a  slave-owner,  was  a  believer  in  the  extension  of 
slavery  into  the  new  territory. 

Kjiowing  that  the  soldiers  I  saw  today  might 
next  week  be  on  their  way  to  battle  made  my  eyes 
big  with  excitement.  I  could  have  stayed  there 
forever.   But  father  had  other  plans,  and  we  were 


BUFFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STOKY         7 

soon  on  our  way.  With  our  trading-wagon  we 
climbed  a  hill — later  named  Sheridan's  Eidge 
for  General  Philip  Sheridan.  From  its  summit 
we  had  a  view  of  Salt  Creek  Valley,  the  most 
beautiful  valley  I  have  ever  seen.  In  this  valley 
lay  our  future  home. 

The  hill  was  very  steep,  and  I  remember  we  had 
to  **lock''  or  chain  the  wagon-wheels  as  we  de- 
scended. We  made  camp  in  the  valley.  The  next 
day  father  began  trading  with  the  Indians,  who 
were  so  pleased  with  the  bargains  he  had  to  offer 
that  they  sent  their  friends  back  to  us  when  they 
departed.  One  of  the  first  trades  he  made  was 
for  a  little  pony  for  me — a  four-year-old — ^which 
I  was  told  I  should  have  to  break  myself.  I  named 
him  Prince.  I  had  a  couple  of  hard  falls,  but  I 
made  up  my  mind  I  was  going  to  ride  that  pony 
or  bust,  and — I  did  not  bust. 

The  next  evening,  looking  over  toward  the  west, 
I  saw  a  truly  frontier  sight — a  line  of  trappers 
winding  down  the  hillside  with  their  pack  animals. 
My  mother  had  often  told  me  of  the  trappers 
searching  the  distant  mountains  for  fur-bearing 
animals  and  living  a  life  of  fascinating  adventure. 
Here  they  were  in  reality. 

While  some  of  the  men  prepared  the  skins, 
others  built  a  fire  and  began  to  get  a  meal.  I 
watched  them  cook  the  dried  venison,  and  was 
filled  with  wonder  at  their  method  of  making 
bread,  which  was  to  wrap  the  dough  about  a  stick 
and  hold  it  over  the  coals  till  it  was  ready  to 
eat.    You  can  imagine  my  rapture  when  one  of 


8         BUFFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STORY 

them — a  pleasant-faced  youth — ^looked  up,  and 
catching  sight  of  me,  invited  me  to  share  the 
meal. 

Boys  are  always  hungry,  but  I  was  especially 
hungry  for  such  a  meal  as  that.  After  it  was  over 
I  hurried  to  camp  and  told  my  father  all  that  had 
passed.  At  his  request  I  brought  the  young 
trapper  who  had  been  so  kind  to  me  over  to  our 
camp,  and  there  he  had  a  long  talk  with  father, 
telling  him  of  his  adventures  by  land  and  sea  in 
all  parts  of  the  world. 

He  said  that  he  looked  forward  with  great  in- 
terest to  his  arrival  in  Weston,  as  he  expected 
to  meet  an  uncle,  Elijah  Cody.  He  had  seen  none 
of  his  people  for  many  years. 

**If  Elijah  Cody  is  your  uncle,  I  am  too,"  said 
my  father.  **You  must  be,  the  long-lost  Horace 
Billings." 

Father  had  guessed  right.  Horace  had  wan- 
dered long  ago  from  the  Ohio  home  and  none  of 
his  family  knew  of  his  whereabouts.  He  had  been 
to  South  America  and  to  California,  joining  a 
band  of  trappers  on  the  Columbia  River  and  com- 
ing with  them  back  across  the  Plains. 

When  I  showed  him  my  pony  he  offered  to  help 
break  him  for  me.  With  very  little  trouble  he 
rode  the  peppery  little  creature  this  way  and  that, 
and  at  last  when  he  circled  back  to  camp  I  found 
the  animal  had  been  mastered. 

In  the  days  that  followed  Horace  gave  me  many 
useful  lessons  as  a  horseman.  He  was  the  pret- 
tiest rider  I  had  ever  seen.     There  had  been  a 


BUFFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STOKY  9 

stampede  of  horses  from  the  Fort,  and  a  reward 
of  ten  dollars  a  head  had  been  offered  for  all 
animals  brought  in.  That  was  easy  money  for 
Horace.  I  would  gallop  along  at  his  side  as  he 
chased  the  fugitive  horses.  He  had  a  long,  plaited 
lariat  which  settled  surely  over  the  neck  of  the 
brute  he  was  after.  Then,  putting  a  ' '  della  walt"^ 
on  the  pommel  of  his  saddle,  he  would  check  his. 
own  mount  and  bring  his  captive  to  a  sudden 
standstill.  He  caught  and  brought  in  five  horses 
the  first  day,  and  must  have  captured  twenty-five 
within  the  next  few  days,  earning  a  sum  of  money 
which  was  almost  a  small  fortune  in  that  time. 

Meanwhile  the  Territory  had  been  opened  for 
settlement.  Our  claim,  over  which  the  Great  Salt 
Lake  trail  for  California  passed,  had  been  taken 
up,  and  as  soon  as  father  and  I,  assisted  by  men 
he  hired,  could  get  our  log  cabin  up,  the  family 
came  on  from  Weston.  The  cabin  was  a  primi- 
tive affair.  There  was  no  floor  at  first.  But  grad- 
ually we  built  a  floor  and  partitions,  and  made  it 
habitable.  I  spent  all  my  spare  time  picking  up 
the  Kickapoo  tongue  from  the  Indian  children  in 
the  neighborhood,  and  listening  with  both  ears  to 
the  tales  of  the  wide  plains  beyond. 

The  great  freighting  firm  of  Russell,  Majors  & 
Waddell  was  then  sending  its  twenty-five  wagon 
^trains  out  from  the  Plains  to  carry  supplies  to 
the  soldiers  at  the  frontier  forts.  Leavenworth 
was  the  firm's  headquarters.  Eussell  stayed  on 
the  books,  and  Majors  was  the  operating  man  on 
the  Plains.     The  trains  were  wonderful  to  me, 


10        BUFFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STORY 

each  wagon  with  its  six  yoke  of  oxen,  wagon- 
masters,  extra  hands,  assistants,  bull-whackers 
and  cavayard  driver  following  with  herds  of  extra 
oxen.  I  began  at  once  making  the  acquaintance  of 
the  men,  and  by  the  end  of  1854  I  knew  them  all. 

Up  to  this  time,  while  bad  blood  existed  between 
the  Free-soilers  and  the  pro-slavery  men,  it  had 
not  become  a  killing  game.  The  pro-slavery  Mis- 
sourians  were  in  the  great  majority.  They 
harassed  the  Free-soilers  considerably  and  com- 
mitted many  petty  persecutions,  but  no  blood  was 
shed.  Father's  brother,  Elijah,  who  kept  the 
store  at  Weston,  was  known  to  be  a  pro-slavery 
man,  and  for  a  time  it  was  taken  for  granted  that 
father  held  the  same  views.  But  he  was  never  at 
any  pains  to  hide  his  own  opinions,  being  a  man 
who  was  afraid  of  nothing.  John  Brown  of 
Ossawatomie,  later  hanged,  for  the  Harper's 
Ferry  raid,  at  Charlestown,  Va.,  was  his  friend. 
So  were  Colonel  Jim  Lane  and  many  other  Aboli- 
tionists. He  went  to  their  houses  openly,  and  they 
came  to  his.  He  worked  hard  with  the  men  he 
had  hired,  cutting  the  wild  hay  and  cordwood  to 
sell  to  the  Fort,  and  planting  sod  corn  under  the 
newly  turned  sod  of  the  farm.  He  also  made 
a  garden,  plowing  and  harrowing  the  soil  and 
breaking  up  the  sods  by  hitching  horses  to  branch- 
ing trees  and  drawing  them  over  the  ground.  He 
minded  his  own  business  and  avoided  all  the  fac- 
tional disputes  with  which  the  neighborhood 
abounded. 

In  June,  1856,  when  I  was  ten  years  old,  father 


BUFFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STORY        11 

went  to  the  Fort  to  collect  Ms  pay  for  hay  and 
wood  he  had  sold  there.  I  accompanied  him  on 
my  pony.  On  our  return  we  saw  a  crowd  of 
drunken  horsemen  in  front  of  Eiveley's  trading- 
post — as  stores  were  called  on  the  frontier. 
There  were  many  men  in  the  crowd  and  they  were 
all  drunk,  yelling  and  shooting  their  pistols  in 
the  air.  They  caught  sight  of  us  immediately  and 
a  few  of  them  advanced  toward  us  as  we  rode  up. 
Father  expected  trouble,  but  he  was  not  a  man  to 
turn  back.  We  rode  quietly  up  to  them,  and  were 
about  to  continue  on  past  when  one  of  them 
yelled : 

** There's  that  abolition  cuss  now.  Git  him  up 
here  and  make  him  declar'  hisself !" 

**Git  off  that  boss,  Cody!"  shouted  another. 

By  this  time  more  than  a  dozen  men  were 
crowding  about  father,  cursing  and  abusing  him. 
Soon  they  tore  him  from  his  horse.  One  of  them 
rolled  a  drygoods  box  from  the  store. 

**Now,"  he  said,  **git  up  on  that  thar  box,  and 
tell  us  whar'  ye  stand." 

Standing  on  the  box,  father  looked  at  the  ring- 
leaders with  no  sign  of  fear. 

**I  am  not  ashamed  of  my  views,"  he  said, 
quietly.  **I  am  not  an  Abolitionist,  and  never 
have  been.  I  think  it  is  better  to  let  slavery  alone 
in  the  States  where  it  is  now.  But  I  am  not  at  all 
afraid  to  tell  you  that  I  am  opposed  to  its  exten- 
sion, and  that  I  believe  that  it  should  be  kept  out 
of  Kansas." 

His  speech  was  followed  by  a  wild  yell  of  de- 


12        BUFFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STOKY 

rision.  Men  began  crowding  around  him,  cursing 
and  shaking  their  fists.  One  of  them,  whom  I 
recognized  as  Charlie  Dunn,  an  employee  of  my 
Uncle  Elijah,  worked  his  way  through  the  crowd, 
and  jumped  up  on  the  box  directly  behind  father. 
I  saw  the  gleam  of  a  knife.  The  next  instant, 
without  a  groan,  father  fell  forward  stabbed  in 
the  back.  Somehow  I  got  off  my  pony  and  ran 
to  his  assistance,  catching  him  as  he  fell.  His 
weight  overbore  me  but  I  eased  him  as  he  came 
to  the  ground. 

Dunn  was  still  standing,  knife  in  hand,  seeking 
a  chance  for  another  thrust. 

**Look  out,  ye '11  stab  the  kid!"  somebody 
yelled.  Another  man,  with  a  vestige  of  decency, 
restrained  the  murderer.  Kiveley  came  out  of  the 
store.  There  was  a  little  breaking  up  of  the 
crowd.  Dunn  was  got  away.  What  happened  to 
him  later  I  shall  tell  you  in  another  chapter. 

With  the  help  of  a  friend  I  got  father  into  a 
wagon  when  the  crowd  had  gone.  I  held  his  head 
in  my  lap  during  the  ride  home.  I  believed  he 
was  mortally  wounded.  He  had  been  stabbed 
down  through  the  kidneys,  leaving  an  ugly  wound. 
But  he  did  not  die  of  it — then.  Mother  nursed 
him  carefully  and  had  he  been  spared  further  per- 
secution, he  might  have  survived.  But  this  was 
only  the  beginning. 

The  pro-slavers  waited  a  few  days,  and  finding 
there  was  no  move  to  molest  them,  grew  bold. 
They  announced  that  they  were  coming  to  our 
house  to  finish  their  work. 


BUFFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STORY        13 

One  night  we  heard  that  a  party  was  organized 
to  carry  out  this  purpose.  As  quietly  as  possible 
mother  helped  take  father  out  into  the  sod  corn, 
which  then  grew  tall  and  thick  close  about  the 
cabin.  She  put  a  shawl  round  him  and  a  sun- 
bonnet  on  his  head  to  disguise  him  as  he  was 
taken  out. 

There  in  the  sod  corn  we  made  him  a  bed  of  hay 
and  blankets  and  there  we  kept  him  for  days, 
carrying  food  to  him  by  night.  These  were 
anxious  days  for  my  mother  and  her  little  family. 
My  first  real  work  as  a  scout  began  then,  for  I  had 
to  keep  constantly  on  the  watch  for  raids  by  the 
ruffians,  who  had  now  sworn  that  father  must  die. 

As  soon  as'  he  was  able  to  walk  we  decided  that 
he  must  be  got  away.  Twenty-five  miles  distant, 
at  Grasshopper  Falls,  were  a  party  of  his  friends. 
There  he  hoped  one  day  to  plant  a  colony.  With 
the  help  of  a  few  friends  we  moved  him  thither 
one  night,  but  word  of  his  whereabouts  soon 
reached  his  enemies. 

I  kept  constantly  on  the  alert,  and,  hearing  that 
a  party  had  set  out  to  murder  him  at  the  Falls, 
I  got  into  the  saddle  and  sped  out  to  warn  him. 

At  a  ford  on  the  way  I  ran  into  the  gang,  who 
had  stopped  to  water  their  horses. 

As  I  galloped  past,  one  of  them  yelled: 
** There's  Cody's  kid  now  on  his  way  to  warn  his 
father.  Stop,  you,  and  tell  us  where  your  old 
man  is." 

A  pistol  shot,  to  terrify  me  into  obedience,  ac- 
companied the  command.    I  may  have  been  terri- 


14        BUFFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STOKY 

fied,  but  it  was  not  into  obedience.  I  got  out  of 
there  like  a  shot,  and  though  they  rode  hard  on  my 
trail  my  pony  was  too  fast  for  them.  My  warning 
was  in  time. 

We  got  father  as  quickly  as  we  could  to 
Lawrence,  which  was  an  abolition  stronghold,  and 
where  he  was  safe  for  the  time  being.  He  grad- 
ually got  back  a  part  of  his  strength,  enough  of  it 
at  any  rate  to  enable  him  to  take  part  in  the  re- 
pulse of  a  raid  of  Missourians  who  came  over  to 
burn  Lawrence  and  lynch  the  Abolitionists.  They 
were  driven  back  across  the  Missouri  River  by  the 
Lawrence  men,  who  trapped  them  into  an  ambush 
and  so  frightened  them  that  for  the  present  they 
rode  on  their  raids  no  more. 

When  father  returned  to  Salt  Creek  Valley  the 
persecutions  began  again.  The  gangsters  drove 
off  all  our  stock  and  killed  all  our  pigs  and  even 
the  chickens.  One  night  Judge  Sharpe,  a  dis- 
reputable old  alcoholic  who  had  been  elected  a 
justice  of  the  peace,  came  to  the  house  and  de- 
manded a  meal.  Mother,  trembling  for  the  safety 
of  her  husband,  who  lay  sick  upstairs,  hastened  to 
get  ijb  for  him.  As  the  old  scoundrel  sat  waiting 
he  caught  sight  of  me. 

**Look  yere,  kid,''  he  shouted,  **ye  see  this 
knife  r' 

He  drew  a  long,  wicked  bowie.  **Well,  I'm 
^oing  to  sharpen  that  to  finish  up  the  job  that 
Charlie  Dunn  began  the  other  day."  And  scowl- 
ing horribly  at  me  he  began  whetting  the  knife  on 
a  stone  he  picked  up  from  the  table. 


BUFFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STORY        15 

Now,  I  knew  something  about  a  gun,  and  there 
was  a  gun  handy.  It  was  upstairs,  and  I  lost  no 
time  in  getting  it.  Sitting  on  the  stairs  I  cocked 
it  and  held  it  across  my  kaees.  I  am  sure  that  I 
should  have  shot  him  had  he  attempted  to  come 
up^  those  stairs. 

He  didn  't  test  my  shooting  ability,  however.  He 
got  even  with  me  by  taking  my  beloved  pony, 
Prince,  when  he  left.  Mother  pleaded  with  him  to 
leave  it,  for  it  was  the  only  animal  we  had,  but  she 
might  as  well  have  pleaded  with  a  wildcat. 

We  had  now  been  reduced  to  utter  destitution. 
Our  only  food  was  what  rabbits  and  birds  I  could 
trap  and  catch  with  the  help  of  our  faithful  old 
dog  Turk,  and  the  sod  corn  which  we  grated  into 
flour.  Father  could  be  of  no  service  to  us.  His 
presence,  in  fact,  was  merely  a  menace.  So,  with 
the  help  of  Brown,  Jim  Lane  and  other  Free- 
soilers,  he  made  his  way  back  to  Ohio  and  began 
recruiting  for  his  Grasshopper  Falls  colony. 

He  returned  to  us  in  the  spring  of  '57  mortally 
ill.  The  wound  inflicted  by  Dunn  had  at  last  ful- 
filled the  murderer 's  purpose.  Father  died  in  the 
little  log-house,  the  first  man  to  shed  his  blood  in 
the  fight  against  the  extension  of  slavery  into  the 
Northern  Territories. 

I  was  eleven  years  old,  and  the  only  man  of  the 
family.  I  made  up  my  mind  to  be  a  bread- 
winner. 

At  that  time  the  Fort  was  full  of  warlike  prepa- 
rations. A  great  number  of  troops  were  being 
assembled  to  send  against  the  Mormons.    Trouble 


16        BUFFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STOKY 

had  been  long  expected. ^United  States  Judges 
and  Federal  officers  sent  to  the  Territory  of  Utah 
had  been  flouted.  Some  of  them  never  dared  take 
their  seats.  Those  who  did  asked  assistance. 
Congress  at  last  decided  to  give  it  to  them.  Gen- 
eral Harney  was  to  command  the  expedition.  Col. 
Albert  Sidney  Johnston,  afterward  killed  at 
Shiloh,  where  he  fought  on  the  Confederate  side, 
was  in  charge  of  the  expedition  to  which  the 
earliest  trains  were  to  be  sent. 

^any  of  the  soldiers  had  already  pushed  on 
ahead.  Eussell,  Majors  &  Waddell  were  awarded 
the  contract  for  taking  them  supplies  and  beef 
cattle.  The  supplies  were  forwarded  in  the  long 
trains  of  twenty-five  wagons,  of  which  I  have  told 
you.  The  cattle  were  driven  after  the  soldiers, 
the  herds  often  falling  many  miles  behind  them. 

I  watched  these  great  preparations  eagerly,  and 
it  occurred  to  me  that  I  ought  to  have  a  share  in 
them.  I  went  to  Mr.  Majors,  whom  I  always 
called  Uncle  Aleck,  and  asked  him  for  a  job.  I 
told  him  of  our  situation,  and  that  I  needed  it  very 
badly  for  the  support  of  my  mother  and  family. 

**But  you're  only  a  boy,  Billy,"  he  objected. 
"What  can  you  do?" 

**I  can  ride  as  well  as  a  man,"  I  said.  "I  could 
drive  cavayard,  couldn't  I?"  Driving  cavayard 
is  herding  the  extra  cattle  that  follow  the  wagon 
train. 

Mr.  Majors  agreed  that  I  could  do  this,  and  con- 
sented to  employ  me.  I  was  to  receive  a  man's 
wages,  forty  dollars  a  month  and  food,  and  the 


BUFFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STORY        17 

wages  were  to  be  paid  to  my  mother  while  I  was 
gone.  With  forty  dollars  a  month  she  would  be 
able  to  support  her  daughters  and  my  baby 
brother  in  comfort. /'Before  I  was  allowed  to  go 
to  work  Uncle  AlecK  handed  me  the  oath  which 
every  one  of  his  employees  must  sign.  I  did  my 
best  to  live  up  to  its  provisions,  but  I  am  afraid 
that  the  profanity  clause  at  least  was  occasionally 
violated  by  some  of  the  bull- whackers.  Here  is  the 
oath: 

**We,  the  undersigned  wagon-masters,  assist- 
ants, teamsters  and  all  other  employees  of  the  firm 
of  Russell,  Majors  &  Waddell,  do  hereby  sign  that 
we  will  not  swear,  drink  whisky,  play  cards  or  be 
cruel  to  dumb  beasts  in  any  way,  shape  or  form. 

his 
(Signed)  '* William  Fredebick  X  Cody." 

mark 

I  signed  it  with  my  mark,  for  I  could  not  write 
.  then.  After  administering  this  ironclad  oath  Mr. 
(Majors  gave  each  man  a  Testament. 

My  first  job  was  that  of  accompanying  a  herd 
of  cattle  destined  for  beef  for  the  troops  that  had 
gone  on  ahead.  Bill  McCarthy,  boss  of  the  outfit, 
was  a  typical  Westerner,  rough  but  courageous, 
and  with  plenty  of  experience  on  the  frontier. 

We  progressed  peacefully  enough  till  we  made 
Plum  Creek,  thirty-six  miles  west  of  Fort  Kear- 
ney, on  the  South  Platte.  The  trip  had  been  full 
of  excitement  for  me.    The  camp  life  was  rough, 


18        BUFFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STORY 

the  bacon  often  rusty  and  the  flour  moldy,  but  the 
hard  work  gave  us  big  appetites.  Plainsmen 
learn  not  to  be  particular. 

I  remember  that  on  some  of  our  trips  we 
obtained  such  *  luxuries'*  as  dried  apples  and 
beans  as  part  of  our  supplies.  We  could  only 
have  these  once  every  two  or  three  days,  and 
their  presence  in  the  mess  was  always  a  glad 
occasion. 

We  were  nooning  at  Plum  Creek,  the  cattle 
spread  out  over  the  prairie  to  graze  in  charge  of 
two  herders.  Suddenly  there  was  a  sharp  Bang! 
Bang !  Bang !  and  a  thunder  of  hoofs. 

** Indians!  They've  shot  the  herders  and  stam- 
peded the  cattle!"  cried  McCarthy.  **Get  under 
the  banks  of  the  river,  boys — use  'em  for  a  breast- 
work ! ' ' 

We  obeyed  orders  quickly.  The  Platte,  a  wide, 
shallow,  muddy  stream,  flows  under  banks  which 
vary  from  five  to  thirty  feet  in  height.  Behind 
them  we  were  in  much  the  position  of  European 
soldiers  in  a  trench.  We  had  our  guns,  and  if  the 
Indians  showed  over  the  bank  could  have  made  it 
hot  for  them. 

McCarthy  told  us  to  keep  together  and  to  make 
our  way  down  the  river  to  Fort  Kearney,  the 
nearest  refuge.  It  was  a  long  and  wearying  jour- 
ney, but  our  lives  depended  on  keeping  along  the 
river  bed.  Often  we  would  have  to  wade  the 
stream  which,  while  knee-deep  to  the  men,  was 
well-nigh  waist-deep  to  me.  Gradually  I  fell  be- 
hind, and  when  night  came  I  was  dragging  one 


BUFFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STORY        19 

weary  step  after  another — dog-tired  but  still 
clinging  to  my  old  Mississippi  Yaeger  rifle,  a 
short  muzzle-loader  which  carried  a  ball  and  two 
buckshot. 

Darkness  came,  and  I  still  toiled  along.  The 
men  ahead  were  almost  out  of  hearing.  Presently 
the  moon  rose,  dead  ahead  of  me.  And  painted 
boldly  across  its  face  was  the  black  figure  of  an 
Indian.  There  could  be  no  mistaking  him  for  a 
white  man.  He  wore  the  war-bonnet  of  the  Sioux, 
and  at  his  shoulder  was  a  rifle,  pointed  at  someone 
in  the  bottom  below  him.  I  knew  well  enough  that 
in  another  second  he  would  drop  one  of  my 
friends.  So  I  raised  my  Yaeger  and  fired.  I  saw 
the  figure  collapse,  and  heard  it  come  tumbling 
thirty  feet  down  the  bank,  landing  with  a  splash 
in  the  water. 

McCarthy  and  the  rest  of  the  party,  hearing  the 
shot,  came  back  in  a  hurry. 

**What  is  it?"  asked  McCarthy,  when  he  came 
up  to  me. 

**I  don't  know,''  I  said.  ** Whatever  it  is,  it  is 
down  there  in  the  water. ' ' 

McCarthy  ran  over  to  the  brave.  **Hi!"  he 
cried.  ** Little  Billy's  killed  an  Indian  all  by  him- 
self!" 

Not  caring  to  meet  any  of  this  gentleman's 
friends  we  pushed  on  still  faster  toward  Fort 
Kearney,  which  we  reached  about  daylight.  We 
were  given  food  and  sent  to  bed,  while  the  soldiers 
set  out  to  look  for  our  slain  comrades  and  to  try 
to  recover  our  cattle. 


20        BUFFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STORY 

Soldiers  from  Fort  Leavenworth  found  the 
herders,  killed  and  mutilated  in  the  Indian  fash- 
ion. But  the  cattle  had  been  stampeded  among 
the  buffalo  and  it  was  impossible  to  recover  a 
single  head. 

We  were  taken  back  to  Leavenworth  on  one  of 
the  returning  freight  wagon-trains.  The  news  of 
my  exploit  was  noised  about  and  made  me  the 
envy  of  all  the  boys  of  the  neighborhood.  The 
Leavenworth  Times,  published  by  D.  R.  Anthony, 
sent  a  reporter  to  get  the  story  of  the  adventure, 
and  in  it  my  name  was  printed  for  the  first  time 
as  the  youngest  Indian  slayer  of  the  Plains. 

I  was  persuaded  now  that  I  was  destined  to  lead 
a  life  on  the  Plains.  The  two  months  that  our  ill- 
fated  expedition  had  consumed  had  not  discour- 
aged me.  Once  more  I  applied  to  Mr.  Majors 
for  a  job. 

**You  seem  to  have  a  reputation  as  a  frontiers- 
man, Billy,"  he  said;  **I  guess  I'll  have  to  give 
you  another  chance. ' '  He  turned  me  over  to  Lew 
Simpson,  who  was  boss  of  a  twenty-five  wagon- 
train  just  starting  with  supplies  for  General 
Albert  Sidney  Johnston's  army,  which  was  then 
on  its  way  to  Great  Salt  Lake  to  fight  the  Mor- 
mons, whose  Destroying  Angels,  or  Deanites, 
were  engaged  in  many  outrages  on  Gentile  im- 
migrants. 

Simpson  appeared  to  be  glad  to  have  me.  **We 
need  Indian  fighters,  Billy, ' '  he  told  me,  and  giv- 
ing me  a  mule  to  ride  assigned  me  to  a  job  as 
cavayard  driver. 


BUFFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STORY        2X 

Our  long  train,  twenty-five  wagons  in  a  line, 
each  with  its  six  yoke  of  oxen,  rolled  slowly  out  of 
Leavenworth  over  the  western  trail.  Wagon- 
master  assistants,  bullwhackers — thirty  men  in 
all,  not  to  mention  the  cavayard  driver — it  was  an 
imposing  sight.  This  was  to  be  a  long  journey, 
clear  to  the  Utah  country,  and  I  eagerly  looked 
forward  to  new  adventures. 

The  first  of  these  came  suddenly.  We  were 
strung  out  over  the  trail  near  the  Platte,  about 
twenty  miles  from  the  scene  of  the  Indian  attack 
on  McCarthy's  outfit,  watching  the  buffalo  scat- 
tered to  right  and  left  of  us,  when  we  heard  two 
or  three  shots,  fired  in  rapid  succession. 

Before  we  could  find  out  who  fired  them,  down 
upon  us  came  a  herd  of  buffalo,  charging  in  a 
furious  stampede.  There  was  no  time  to  do  any- 
thing but  jump  behind  our  wagons.  The  light 
mess-wagon  was  drawn  by  six  yoke  of  Texas 
steers  which  instantly  became  part  of  the  stam- 
pede, tearing  away  over  the  prairie  with  the  buf- 
falo, our  wagon  following  along  behind.  The 
other  wagons  were  too  heavy  for  the  steers  to 
gallop  away  with;  otherwise  the  whole  outfit 
would  have  gone. 

I  remember  that  one  big  bull  came  galloping 
down  between  two  yoke  of  oxen,  tearing  away 
the  gooseneck  and  the  heavy  chain  with  each  low- 
ered horn.  I  can  still  see  him  as  he  rushed  away 
with  these  remarkable  decorations  dangling  from 
either  side.  Whether  or  not  his  new  ornaments 
excited  the  admiration  of  his  fellows  when  the 


22        BUFFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STORY 

herd  came  to  a  stand  later  in  the  day  I  can  only 
guess. 

The  descent  of  the  buffalo  upon  us  lasted  only 
a  few  minutes,  but  so  much  damage  was  done  that 
three  days  were  required  to  repair  it  before  we 
could  move  on.  We  managed  to  secure  our  mess- 
wagon  again,  which  was  lucky,  for  it  contained  all 
our  provender. 

We  learned  afterward  that  the  stampede  had 
been  caused  by  a  returning  party  of  California 
gold-seekers,  whose  shots  into  the  herd  had  been 
our  first  warning  of  what  was  coming.  Twice  be- 
fore we  neared  the  Mormon  country  we  were  at- 
tacked by  Indians.  The  army  was  so  far  ahead 
that  they  had  become  bold.  We  beat  off  the  at- 
tacks, but  lost  two  men. 

It  was  white  men,  however,  not  Indians,  who 
were  to  prove  our  most  dangerous  enemies.  Ar- 
riving near  Green  River  we  were  nooning  on  a 
ridge  about  a  mile  and  a  half  from  a  little  creek, 
Halm's  Fork,  where  the  stock  were  driven  to 
water.  This  was  a  hundred  and  fifteen  miles  east 
of  Salt  Lake  City,  and  well  within  the  limits  of  the 
Mormon  country. 

Most  of  the  outfit  had  driven  the  cattle  to  the 
creek,  a  mile  and  a  half  distant,  and  were  return- 
ing slowly,  while  the  animals  grazed  along  the 
way  back  to  camp.  I  was  with  them.  We  were 
out  of  sight  of  the  wagons. 

As  he  rose  the  hill  a  big  bearded  man,  mounted 
and  surrounded  by  a  party  of  armed  followers, 
rode  up  to  our  wagon-master. 


BUFFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STORY        23 

**  Throw  up  your  hands,  Simpson  P'  said  the 
leader,  who  knew  Simpson's  name  and  his  posi- 
tion. 

Simpson  was  a  brave  man,  but  the  strangers 
had  the  drop  and  up  went  his  hands.  At  the  same 
time  we  saw  that  the  wagons  were  surrounded  by 
several  hundred  men,  all  mounted  and  armed,  and 
the  teamsters  all  rounded  up  in  a  bunch.  We 
knew  that  we  had  fallen  into  the  hands  of  the 
Mormon  Danites,  or  Destroying  Angels,  the  ruf- 
fians who  perpetrated  the  dreadful  Mountain 
Meadows  Massacre  of  the  same  year.  The  leader 
was  Lot  Smith,  one  of  the  bravest  and  most  de- 
termined of  the  whole  crowd. 

**Now,  Simpson,*'  he  said,  **we  are  going  to  be 
kind  to  you.  You  can  have  one  wagon  with  the 
cattle  to  draw  it.  Get  into  it  all  the  provisions  and 
blankets  you  can  carry,  and  turn  right  round  and 
go  back  to  the  Missouri  River.  You're  headed  in 
the  wrong  direction." 

*  *  Can  we  have  our  guns  ? ' '  asked  Simpson. 

*'Notagun." 

'*  Six-shooters  r' 

**Not  a  six-shooter.  Nothing  but  food  and 
blankets. ' ' 

**How  are  we  going  to  protect  ourselves  on  the 
way?" 

** That's  your  business.  We're  doing  you  a 
favor  to  spare  your  lives." 

All  Simpson's  protests  were  in  vain.  There 
were  thirty  of  us  against  several  hundred  of  them. 
The  Mormons  stood  over  us  while  we  loaded  a 


24        BUFFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STOEY 

wagon  till  it  sagged  with  provisions,  clothing  and 
blankets.  They  had  taken  away  every  rifle  and 
every  pistol  we  possessed.  Ordering  us  to  hike 
for  the  East,  and  informing  ns  that  we  would  be 
shot  down  if  we  attempted  to  turn  back,  they 
watched  us  depart. 

"When  we  had  moved  a  little  way  off  we  saw  a 
blaze  against  the  sky  behind  us,  and  knew  that  our 
wagon-train  had  been  fired.  The  greasy  bacon 
made  thick  black  smoke  and  a  bright-red  flame, 
and  for  a  long  time  the  fire  burned,  till  noth- 
ing was  left  but  the  iron  bolts  and  axles  and 
tires. 

Smith's  party,  which  had  been  sent  out  to  keep 
all  supplies  from  reaching  Johnston's  army,  had 
burned  two  other  wagon-trains  that  same  day, 
as  we  afterward  learned.  The  wagons  were  all 
completely  consumed,  and  for  the  next  few  years 
the  Mormons  would  ride  out  to  the  scenes  to  get 
the  iron  that  was  left  in  the  ashes. 

Turned  adrift  on  the  desert  with  not  a  weapon 
to  defend  ourselves  was  hardly  a  pleasant  pros- 
pect. It  meant  a  walk  of  a  thousand  miles  home 
to  Leavenworth.  The  wagon  was  loaded  to  its  full 
capacity.  There  was  nothing  to  do  but  walk.  I 
was  not  yet  twelve  years  old,  but  I  had  to  walk 
with  the  rest  the  full  thousand  miles,  and  we  made 
nearly  thirty  miles  a  day. 

Fortunately  we  were  not  molested  by  Indians. 
From  passing  wagon-trains  we  got  a  few  rifles,  all 
they  could  spare,  and  with  these  we  were  able  to 
kill  game  for  fresh  meat.    I  wore  out  three  pairs 


BUFFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STORY        25 

of  moccasins  on  that  journey,  and  learned  then 
that  the  thicker  are  the  soles  of  your  shoes,  the 
easier  are  your  feet  in  a  long  walk  over  rough 
ground. 

After  a  month  of  hard  travel  we  reached 
Leavenworth.  I  set  out  at  once  for  the  log-cabin 
home,  whistling  as  I  walked,  and  the  first  to  wel- 
come me  was  my  old  dog  Turk,  who  came  tearing 
toward  me  and  almost  knocked  me  down  in  his 
eagerness.  I  am  sure  my  mother  and  sisters  were 
mighty  glad  to  see  me.  They  had  feared  that  I 
might  never  return. 

My  next  journey  over  the  Plains  was  begun 
under  what,  to  me,  were  very  exciting  circum- 
stances. I  spent  the  winter  of  '57-^58  at  school. 
My  mother  was  anxious  about  my  education.  But 
the  master  of  the  frontier  school  wore  out  several 
armfuls  of  hazel  switches  in  a  vain  effort  to  in- 
terest me  in  the  **  three  R's." 

I  kept  thinking  of  my  short  but  adventurous 
past.  And  as  soon  as  another  opportunity  offered 
to  return  to  it  I  seized  it  eagerly. 

That  spring  my  former  boss.  Lew  Simpson,  was 
busily  organizing  a  ** lightning  bull  team''  for  his 
employers,  Russell,  Majors  &  Waddell.  Albert 
Sidney  Johnston's  soldiers,  then  moving  West, 
needed  supplies,  and  needed  them  in  a  hurry. 
Thus  far  the  mule  was  the  reindeer  of  draft  ani- 
mals, and  mule  trains  were  forming  to  hurry  the 
needful  supplies  to  the  soldiers. 

But  Simpson  had  great  faith  in  the  bull.  A 
picked  bull  train,  he  allowed,  could  beat  a  mule 


26        BUFFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STORY 

train  all  hollow  on  a  long  haul.   All  he  wanted  was 
a  chance  to  prove  it. 

His  employers  gave  him  the  chance.  For  sev- 
eral weeks  he  had  been  picking  his  animals  for  the 
outfit.  And  now  he  was  to  begin  what  is  perhaps 
the  most  remarkable  race  ever  made  across  the 
Plains. 

A  mule  train  was  to  start  a  week  after  Simp- 
son's lightning  bulls  began  their  westward  course. 
Whichever  outfit  got  to  Fort  Laramie  first  would 
be  the  winner.  No  more  excitement  could  have 
been  occasioned  had  the  contestants  been  a  rein- 
deer and  a  jack-rabbit.  To  my  infinite  delight 
Simpson  let  me  join  his  party. 

My  thousand-mile  tramp  over  the  Plains  had 
cured  me  of  the  walking  habit  and  I  was  glad  to 
find  that  this  time  I  was  to  have  a  horse  to  ride — - 
part  of  the  way,  anyhow.  I  was  to  be  an  extra 
hand — which  meant  that  by  turns  I  was  to  be  a 
bull- whacker,  driver  and  general-utility  man. 

I  remember  that  our  start  was  a  big  event. 
Men,  women  and  children  watched  our  chosen 
animals  amble  out  of  Salt  Creek.  The  *'mule 
skinners,"  busy  with  preparations  for  their  own 
departure,  stopped  work  to  jeer  us. 

**We'll  ketch  you  in  a  couple  of  days  or  sol"- 
yelled  Tom  Stewart,  boss  of  the  mule  outfit. 

But  Simpson  only  grinned.  Jeers  couldn't 
shake  his  confidence  either  in  himself  or  his  long- 
horned  motive  power. 

We  made  the  first  hundred  and  fifty  miles 
easily.    I  was  glad  to  be  a  plainsman  once  more, 


BUFFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STORY        27 

and  took  a  lively  interest  in  everything  that  went 
forward.  We  were  really  making  speed,  too, 
which  added  to  the  excitement.  The  ordinary  bull 
team  could  do  about  fifteen  miles  a  day.  Under 
Simpson's  command  his  specially  selected  bulls 
were  doing  twenty-five,  and  doing  it  right  along. 

But  one  day,  while  we  were  nooning  about  one 
hundred  and  fifty  miles  on  the  way,  one  of  the 
boys  shouted:  **Here  come  the  mules!" 

Presently  Stewart's  train  came  shambling  up, 
and  a  joyful  lot  the  **mule  skinners"  were  at  what 
they  believed  their  victory. 

But  it  was  a  short-lived  victory.  At  the  end  of 
the  next  three  hundred  miles  we  found  them,  try- 
ing to  cross  the  Platte,  and  making  heavy  work 
of  it.  The  grass  fodder  had  told  on  the  mules. 
Supplies  from  other  sources  were  now  exhausted. 
There  were  no  farms,  no  traders,  no  grain  to  be 
had.  The  race  had  become  a  race  of  endurance, 
and  the  strongest  stomachs  were  destined  to  be 
the  winners. 

Stewart  made  a  bad  job  of  the  crossing.  The 
river  was  high,  and  his  mules  quickly  mired  down 
in  the  quicksand.  The  more  they  pawed  the 
deeper  they  went. 

Simpson  picked  a  place  for  crossing  below  the 
ford  Stewart  had  chosen.  He  put  enough  bulls  on 
a  wagon  to  insure  its  easy  progress,  and  the  bulls 
wallowed  through  the  sand  on  their  round  bellies, 
using  their  legs  as  paddles. 

Stewart  pulled  ahead  again  after  he  had 
crossed  the  river,  but  soon  his  mules  grew  too 


28        BUFFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STOEY 

feeble  to  make  anything  like  their  normal  speed. 
We  passed  them  for  good  and  all  a  few  days 
farther  on,  and  were  far  ahead  when  we  reached 
the  North  Platte. 

Thus  ended  a  race  that  I  shall  never  forget. 
Since  that  time  the  stage-coach  has  outdistanced 
the  bull  team,  the  pony  express  has  swpt  past 
the  stage-coach,  the  locomotive  has  done  in  an 
hour  what  the  prairie  schooner  did  in  three  or 
four  days.  Soon  the  aeroplane  will  be  racing 
with  the  automobile  for  the  cross-country 
record. 

But  the  bull  team  and  the  mule  team  were  the 
continental  carriers  of  that  day,  and  I  am  very- 
glad  that  I  took  part — op  the  winning  side — in  a 
race  between  them. 

We  soon  began  meeting  parties  of  soldiers,  and 
lightening  our  loads  by  issuing  supplies  to  them. 
When  at  last  we  reached  Fort  Laramie,  the  out- 
fit was  ordered  to  Fort  Walback,  located  in 
Cheyenne  Pass,  twenty-five  miles  from  where 
Cheyenne  stands  today,  and  ninety  miles  from 
Fort  Laramie. 

This  was  in  the  very  heart  of  the  Indian  coun- 
try. Our  animals  were  to  haul  in  plows,  tools  and 
whatever  was  necessary  in  the  constructing  of  the 
new  fort  then  building.  The  wagon-beds  were 
taken  from  the  wagons  to  enable  the  hauling  of 
greater  loads.  The  beds  were  piled  up  at  Fort 
Laramie,  and  I  was  assigned  to  watch  them.  It 
was  here  that  I  had  abundant  time  and  oppor- 
tunity to  study  the  West  at  first  hand.    Hereto- 


BUFFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STORY        29 

|ore  I  had  been  on  the  march.  Now  I  was  on  fixed 
post,  with  plenty  of  time  for  observation. 

Fort  Laramie  was  an  old  frontier  post,  such  as 
has  not  existed  for  many  years.  Nearby,  three  or 
four  thousand  Sioux,  Northern  Cheyennes  and 
Northern  Arapahoes  were  encamped,  most  of 
them  spending  much  of  the  time  at  the  post. 
Laramie  had  been  established  by  a  fur-trading 
company  in  1834.  In  1840  or  thereabouts  the  Gov- 
ernment bought  it  and  made  it  a  military  post. 
It  had  become  the  most  famous  meeting-place  of 
the  Plains.  Here  the  greatest  Indian  councils 
were  held,  and  here  also  came  the  most  celebrated 
of  the  Indian  fighters,  men  whose  names  had  long 
been  known  to  me,  but  whom  I  never  dared  hope 
to  see. 

Kit  Carson,  Jim  Bridger,  Baker,  Richards  and 
other  of  the  celebrated  hunters,  trappers  and 
Indian  fighters  were  as  familiar  about  the  post  as 
are  bankers  in  Wall  Street.  All  these  men  fas- 
cinated me,  especially  Carson,  a  small,  dapper, 
quiet  man  whom  everybody  held  in  profound 
respect. 

I  used  to  sit  for  hours  and  watch  him  and  the 
others  talk  to  the  Indians  in  the  sign  language. 
Without  a  sound  they  would  carry  on  long  and 
interesting  conversations,  tell  stories,  inquire 
about  game  and  trails,  and  discuss  pretty  much 
everything  that  men  find  worth  discussing. 

I  was  naturally  desirous  of  mastering  this  mys- 
terious medium  of  speech,  and  began  my  educa- 
tion in  it  with  far  more  interest  than  I  had  given 


30        BUFFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STORY 

to  the  *Hhree  E's''  back  at  Salt  Creek.  My 
wagon-beds  became  splendid  playhouses  for  the 
Indian  children  from  the  villages,  who  are  very 
much  like  other  children,  despite  their  red  skins. 

I  joined  them  in  their  games,  and  from  them 
picked  up  a  fair  working  knowledge  of  the  Sioux 
language.  The  acquaintance  I  formed  here  was  to 
save  my  scalp  and  life  later,  but  I  little  suspected' 
it  then. 

I  spent  the  summer  of  '58  in  and  about  Lara- 
mie. I  was  getting  to  be  a  big,  husky  boy  now, 
and  felt  that  I  had  entered  on  what  was  to  be  my 
career — as  indeed  I  had. 

In  January,  '59,  Simpson  was  ordered  back  to 
Missouri  as  brigade  train-master  of  three  wagon- 
trains,  traveling  a  day  apart.  Because  of  much 
travel  the  grass  along  the  regular  trail  was  eaten 
so  close  that  the  feed  for  the  bulls  was  scanty. 

Instead  of  following  the  trail  down  the  South 

Platte,  therefore,  Simpson  picked  a  new  route 

along  the  North  Platte.    There  was  no  road,  but 

the  grass  was  still  long,  and  forage  for  the  cattle 

was  necessary. 

.     1      We  had  accomplished  about  half  our  journey 

c>t^     1  with  no  sign  of  hostile  Indians.    Then  one  day,  as 

Simpson,  George  Woods  and  I  were  riding  ahead 

■  to  overtake  the  lead  train,  a  party  of  Sioux  bore 

down  on  us,  plainly  intent  on  mischief.     There 

was  little  time  to  act.    No  cover  of  any  kind  was 

to  be  had.    For  us  three,  even  with  our  rifles,  to 

have  stood  up  against  the  Sioux  in  the  open  would 

have  been  suicide.    Simpson  had  been  trained  to 


BUFFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STORY        31 

think  quickly.  Swinging  the  three  mules  so  that 
they  formed  a  triangle,  he  drew  his  six-shooter 
and  dropped  them  where  they  stood. 

**Now  there's  a  little  cover,  boys,"  he  said,  and 
we  all  made  ready  for  the  attack.  ^ 

^anof  defense  was  now  made  for  us. 
First  rifles7then7"a1rcleser.  quarters,  revolvers.  If 
it  came  to  a  hand-to-hand  cbnflixst- we.  had  our 
knives  as  a  last  resort.  "^^^ 

The  Sioux  drew  up  when  they  saw  how  quickly 
Simpson's  wit  had  built  a  barricade  for  us.  Then 
the  arrows  began  to  fly  and  among  them  spattered 
a  few  bullets.  We  were  as  sparing  as  possible 
with  our  shots.  Most  of  them  told. .  L4iad  already 
learned  how  to  use  a  rifle,  and  was  glad  indeed 
that  I  had.  If  ever  a  boy  stood  in  need  of  that 
kind  of  preparedness  I  did. 

Down  came  the  Indians,  with  the  blood-curdling 
yell  which  is  always  a  feature  of  their  military 
strategy.  We  waited  till  they  got  well  within 
range.  Then  at  Simpson's  order  we  fired.  Three 
'ponies  galloped  riderless  over  the  prairie,  and  our 
besiegers  hesitated,  then  wheeled,  and  rode  out  of 
range.  But  our  rest  was  short.  Back  they  came. 
Again  we  fired,  and  had  the  good  fortune  to  stop 
three  more  of  them. 

Simpson  patted  me  encouragingly  on  the  shoul- 
der. **You're  all  right,  Billy!"  he  said,  and  his 
praise  was  music  to  my  ears. 

By  this  time  our  poor  dead  mules,  who  had 
given  their  lives  for  ours,  were  stuck  full  of 
arrows.    Woods  had  been  winged  in  the  shoulder. 


32        BUFFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STORY 

Simpson,  carefully  examining  the  wound,  ex- 
pressed his  belief  that  the  arrow  which  inflicted  it 
had  not  been  poisoned. 

But  we  had  little  time  to  worry  about  that  or 
anything  else.  Our  enemies  were  still  circling, 
just  out  of  range.  Here  and  there  when  they 
grew  incautious  we  dropped  a  man  or  a  pony. 
But  we  were  still  heavily  outnumbered.  They 
knew  it  and  we  knew  it.  Unless  help  came  it  was 
only  a  question  of  time  till  it  was  all  over. 

Daylight  came  and  they  still  held  off.  Eagerly 
we  looked  to  the  westward,  but  no  wagon-train  ap- 
peared. We  began  to  fear  that  something  had 
happened  to  our  friends,  when  suddenly  one  of 
the  Indians  jumped  up,  and  with  every  evidence 
of  excitement  signaled  to  the  ojybiei:»£]\^  an  in- 
stant they  were  all  mounted.  ***'*^  %x^^ 

**They  hear  the  crack  of  the  bull-whip,"  said 
Woods. 

He  was  right.  Without  another  glance  in  our 
direction  the  Sioux  galloped  away  toward  the  foot- 
hills, and  as  they  disappeared  we  heard  the 
welcome  snap  of  the  long  bull-whip,  and  saw  the 
first  of  our  wagons  coming  up  the  trail.  In  that 
day,  however,  the  plainsman  was  delivered  out  of 
one  peril  only  to  be  plunged  into  another.  His 
days  seldom  dragged  for  want  of  excitement. 

When  we  got  to  Leavenworth,  Simpson  sent 
three  of  us  ahead  with  the  train-book  record  of  the 
men's  time,  so  that  their  money  would  be  ready 
for  them  when  they  arrived  at  Leavenworth. 

Our  boss's  admonition  to  ride  only  at  night  and 


BUFFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STORY        33 

to  lie  under  cover  in  daytime  was  hardly  needed. 
We  eared  for  no  more  Indian  adventures  just 
then. 

We  made  fairly  good  progress  till  we  got  to 
the  Little  Blue,  in  Colorado.  It  was  an  uncom- 
fortable journey,  finding  our  way  by  the  stars  at 
night  and  lying  all  day  in  such  shelters  as  were 
to  be  found.  But  the  inconvenience  of  it  was  far 
preferable  to  being  made  targets  for  Indian 
arrows. 

We  were  sheltered  one  night  from  one  of  the 
fearful  prairie  blizzards  that  make  fall  and  winter 
terrible.  We  had  found  a  guUey  washed  out  by 
an  autumn  storm,  and  it  afforded  a  little  protec- 
tion against  the  wind.  Looking  down  the  ravine 
I  saw  ponies  moving.  I  knew  there  were  Indians 
near,  and  we  looked  about  for  a  hiding-place. 

At  the  head  of  the  ravine  I  had  noticed  a  cave- 
like hollow.  I  signaled  to  the  two  men  to  follow; 
me,  and  soon  we  were  snug  in  a  safe  hiding-place. 
As  we  were  settling  down  to  rest  one  of  the  men 
lit  his  pipe.  As  the  cave  was  illuminated  by  the 
glow  of  the  match  there  was  a  wild  yell.  I 
thought  all  the  Indians  in  the  world  had  jumped 
us.    But  the  yell  had  come  from  my  companions. 

We  were  in  the  exact  center  of  the  most  grew- 
some  collection  of  human  skulls  and  bones  I  have 
ever  seen.  Bones  were  strewn  on  the  floor  of  the 
cave  like  driftwood.  Skulls  were  grinning  at  us 
from  every  corner  of  the  darkness.  We  had 
stumbled  into  a  big  grave  where  some  of  the  In- 
dians had  hidden  their  dead  away  from  the  wolves 


34        BUFFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STORY 

after  a  battle.  It  may  be  that  none  of  us  were 
superstitious,  but  we  got  out  of  there  in  a  hurry, 
and  braved  the  peril  of  the  storm  and  the  Indians 
as  best  we  could. 

I  was  a  rich  boy  when  I  got  to  Leavenworth.  I 
had  nearly  a  thousand  dollars  to  turn  over  to  my 
mother  as  soon  as  I  should  draw  my  pay.  After 
a  joyful  reunion  with  the  family  I  hitched  up  a 
pair  of  ponies,  and  drove  her  over  so  that  she 
could  witness  this  pleasing  ceremony.  As  we 
were  driving  home,  I  heard  her  sobbing,  and  was 
deeply  concerned,  for  this  seemed  to  me  no  oc- 
casion for  tears.  I  was  quick  to  ask  the  reason, 
and  her  answer  made  me  serious. 

**You  couldn't  even  write  your  name,  "Willie," 
she  said.  **You  couldn't  sign  the  payroll.  To 
think  my  boy  cannot  so  much  as  write  his  name!" 

I  thought  that  over  all  the  way  home,  and  deter- 
mined it  should  never  happen  again. 

In  Uncle  Aleck  Majors'  book,  *^ Seventy  Years 
on  the  Frontier,"  he  relates  how  on  every  wagon- 
sheet  and  wagon-bed,  on  every  tree  and  barn  door, 
he  used  to  find  the  name  ** William  F.  Cody"  in  a 
large,  uncertain  scrawl.  Those  were  my  writing 
lessons,  and  I  took  them  daily  until  I  had  my  sig- 
nature plastered  pretty  well  over  the  whole  of 
Salt  Creek  Valley. 

I  went  to  school  for  a  time  after  that,  and  at 
last  began  really  to  take  an  interest  in  education. 
But  the  Pike's  Peak  gold  rush  took  me  with  it. 
I  could  never  resist  the  call  of  the  trail.  With 
another  boy  who  knew  as  little  of  gold-mining  as 


BUFFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STORY        35 

I  did  we  hired  out  with  a  bull-train  for  Denver, 
then  called  Aurora. 

We  each  had  fifty  dollars  when  we  got  to  the 
gold  country,  and  with  it  we  bought  an  elaborate 
outfit.  But  there  was  no  mining  to  be  done  save 
by  expensive  machinery,  and  we  had  our  labor  for 
our  pains.  At  last,  both  of  us  strapped,  we  got 
work  as  timber  cutters,  which  lasted  only  until  we 
found  it  would  take  us  a  week  to  fell  a  tree.  At 
last  we  hired  out  once  more  as  bull-whackers. 
That  job  we  understood,  and  at  it  we  earned 
enough  money  to  take  us  home. 

We  hired  a  carpenter  to  build  us  a  boat,  loaded 
it  with  grub  and  supplies,  and  started  gayly  down 
the  Platte  for  home.  But  the  bad  luck  of  that  trip 
held  steadily.  The  boat  was  overturned  in  swift 
and  shallow  water,  and  we  were  stranded,  wet  and 
helpless,  on  the  bank,  many  miles  from  home  or 
anywhere  else. 

Then  a  miracle  happened.  Along  the  trail  we 
heard  the  familiar  crack  of  a  bull-whip,  and  when 
the  train  came  up  we  found  it  was  the  same  with 
which  we  had  enlisted  for  the  outward  journey, 
returning  to  Denver  with  mining  machinery. 
Among  this  machinery  was  a  big  steam-boiler,  the 
first  to  be  taken  into  Colorado.  On  the  way  out 
the  outfit  had  been  jumped  by  Indians.  The 
wagon  boss,  knowing  the  red  man's  fear  of  can- 
non, had  swung  the  great  boiler  around  so  that  it 
had  appeared  to  point  at  them.  Never  was  so  big 
a  cannon.  Even  the  42-centimeter  howitzers  of 
Europe  today  could  not  compare  with  it.     The 


36        BUFFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STORY 

Indians  took  one  look  at  it,  then  departed  that 
part  of  the  country  as  fast  as  their  ponies  could 
travel. 

We  stuck  with  the  train  into  Denver  and  back 
home  again,  and  glad  we  were  to  retire  from  gold- 
mining. 

Soon  after  my  return  to  Salt  Creek  Valley  I 
decided  on  another  and,  I  thought,  a  better  way 
to  make  a  fortune  for  myself  and  my  family. 

During  my  stay  in  and  about  For-t  Laramie  I 
had  seen  much  of  the  Indian  traders,  and  accom- 
panied them  on  a  number  of  expeditions.  Their 
business  was  to  sell  to  the  Indians  various  things 
they  needed,  chiefly  guns  and  ammunition,  and  to 
take  in  return  the  current  Indian  coin,  which  con- 
sisted of  furs. 

With  the  supplies  bought  by  the  money  I  had 
earned  on  the  trip  with  Simpson,  mother  and  my 
sisters  were  fairly  comfortable.  I  felt  that  I 
should  be  able  to  embark  in  the  fur  business  on 
my  own  account — ^not  as  a  trader  but  as  a  trapper. 

With  my  friend  Dave  Harrington  as  a  com- 
panion I  set  out.  Harrington  was  older  than  I, 
and  had  trapped  before  in  the  Rockies.  I  was  sure 
that  with  my  knowledge  of  the  Plains  and  his  of 
the  ways  of  the  fur-bearing  animals,  we  should 
form  an  excellent  partnership,  as  in  truth  we  did. 

We  bought  a  yoke  of  oxen,  a  wagon-sheet, 
wagon,  traps  of  all  sorts,  and  strychnine  with 
which  to  poison  wolves.  Also  we  laid  in  a  supply 
of  grub — no  luxuries,  but  coffee,  flour,  bacon  and 
everything  that  we  actually  needed  to  sustain  life. 


BUFFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STORY        37 

We  headed  west,  and  about  two  hundred  miles 
from  home  we  struck  Prairie  Creek,  where  we 
found  abundant  signs  of  beaver,  mink,  otter  and 
other  fur-bearing  animals.  No  Indians  had 
troubled  us,  and  we  felt  safe  in  establishing  head- 
quarters here  and  beginning  work.  The  first  task 
was  to  build  a  dugout  in  a  hillside,  which  we 
roofed  with  brush,  long  grass,  and  finally  dirt, 
making  everything  snug  and  cozy.  A  little  fire- 
place in  the  wall  served  as  both  furnace  and 
kitchen.  Outside  we  built  a  corral  for  the  oxen, 
which  completed  our  camp. 

Our  trapping  was  successful  from  the  start,  and 
we  were  sure  that  prosperity  was  at  last  in  sight. 

We  set  our  steel  traps  along  the  **runs*'  used 
by  the  animals,  taking  great  care  to  hide  our 
tracks,  and  give  the  game  no  indication  of  the 
presence  of  an  enemy.  The  pelts  began  to  pile  up 
in  our  shack.  Most  of  the  day  we  were  busy  at  the 
traps,  or  skinning  and  salting  the  hides,  and  at 
night  we  would  sit  by  our  little  fire  and  swap  ex- 
periences till  we  fell  asleep.  Always  there  was 
the  wail  of  the  coyotes  and  the  cries  of  other 
animals  without,  but  as  long  as  we  saw  no  Indians 
we  were  not  worried. 

One  night,  just  as  we  were  dozing  oif,  we  heard 
a  tremendous  commotion  in  the  corral.  Harring- 
ton grabbed  his  gun  and  hurried  out.  He  was  just 
in  time  to  see  a  big  bear  throw  one  of  our  oxen 
and  proceed  with  the  work  of  butchering  him. 

He  fired,  and  the  bear,  slightly  wounded,  left  the 
ox  and  turned  his  attention  to  his  assailant.    He 


38        BUFFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STORY 

was  leaping  at  my  partner,  growling  savagely, 
when  I,  gun  in  hand,  rounded  the  corner  of  the 
shack.  I  took  the  best  aim  I  could  get  in  the  dark, 
and  the  bear,  which  was  within  a  few  feet  of  my 
friend,  rolled  over  dead. 

Making  sure  that  he  was  past  harming  us  we 
turned  our  attention  to  the  poor  bull,  but  he  was 
too  far  gone  to  recover,  and  another  bullet  put  him 
out  of  his  misery. 

We  were  now  left  without  a  team,  and  two  hun- 
dred miles  from  home.  But  wealth  in  the  shape 
of  pelts  was  accumulating  about  us,  and  we  de- 
termined to  stick  it  out  till  spring.  Then  one  of 
us  could  go  to  the  nearest  settlement  for  a  team- 
mate for  our  remaining  steer,  while  the  other 
stayed  in  charge  of  the  camp. 

This  plan  had  to  be  carried  out  far  sooner  than 
we  expected.  A  few  days  later  we  espied  a  herd 
of  elk,  which  meant  plentiful  and  excellent  meat. 
We  at  once  started  in  pursuit.  Creeping  stealth- 
ily along  toward  them,  keeping  out  of  sight,  and 
awaiting  an  opportunity  to  get  a  good  shot,  I 
slipped  on  a  stone  in  the  creek  bed. 

**Snap!''  went  something  and  looking  down  I 
saw  my  foot  hanging  useless.  I  had  broken  my 
leg  just  above  the  ankle  and  my  present  career  as 
a  fur-trapper  had  ended. 

I  was  very  miserable  when  Harrington  came 
up.  I  urged  him  to  shoot  me  as  he  had  the 
ox,  but  he  laughingly  replied  that  that  would 
hardly  do. 

**I'll  bring  you  out  all  right!''  he  said.    **I  owe 


BUFFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STORY        39 

you  a  life  anyway  for  saving  me  from  that  bear. 
I  learned  a  little  something  about  surgery  when  I 
was  in  Illinois,  and  I  guess  I  can  fix  you  up." 

He  got  me  back  to  camp  after  a  long  and  painful 
hour,  and  with  a  wagon-bow,  which  he  made  into  a 
splint,  set  the  fracture.  But  our  enterprise  was  at 
an  end.  Help  would  have  to  be  found  now,  and 
before  spring.  One  man  and  a  cripple  could  never 
get  through  the  winter. 

It  was  determined  that  Harrington  must  go  for 
this  needful  assistance  just  as  soon  as  possible. 
^He  placed  me  on  our  little  bunk,  with  plenty  of 
blankets  to  cover  me.  All  our  provisions  he  put 
within  my  reach.  A  cup  was  lashed  to  a  long 
sapling,  and  Harrington  made  a  hole  in  the  side 
of  the  dugout  so  that  I  could  reach  this  cup  out 
to  a  snow-bank  for  my  water  supply. 

Lastly  he  cut  a  great  pile  of  wood  and  heaped 
it  near  the  fire.  Without  leaving  the  bunk  I  could 
thus  do  a  little  cooking,  keep  the  fire  up,  and  eat 
and  sleep.  It  was  not  a  situation  that  I  would 
have  chosen,  but  there  was  nothing  else  to  do. 

The  nearest  settlement  was  a  hundred  and 
twenty-five  miles  distant.  Harrington  figured 
that  he  could  make  the  round  trip  in  twenty  days. 
My  supplies  were  ample  to  last  that  long.  I  urged 
him  to  start  as  soon  as  possible,  that  he  might  the 
sooner  return  with  a  new  yoke  of  oxen.  Then  I 
could  be  hauled  out  to  where  medical  attendance 
was  to  be  had. 

I  watched  him  start  off  afoot,  and  my  heart  was 
heavy.    But  soon  I  stopped  thinking  of  my  pain 


40        BUFFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STOEY 

and  began  to  find  ways  and  means  to  cure  my  lone- 
Hness.  We  had  brought  with  us  a  number  of 
I  books,  and  these  I  read  through  most  of  my  wak- 
ing hours.  But  the  days  grew  longer  and  longer, 
for  all  that.  Every  morning  when  I  woke  I  cut  a 
notch  in  a  long  stick  to  mark  its  coming.  I  had 
cut  twelve  of  these  notches  when  one  morning  I 
was  awakened  from  a  sound  sleep  by  the  touch  of 
a  hand  on  my  shoulder. 

Instantly  concluding  that  Harrington  had  re- 
turned, I  was  about  to  cry  out  in  delight  when  I 
caught  a  glimpse  of  a  war-bonnet,  surmounting 
the  ugly,  painted  face  of  a  Sioux  brave. 

The  brilliant  colors  that  had  been  smeared  on 
^s  visage  told  me  more  forcibly  than  words  could 
have  done  that  his  tribe  was  on  the  warpath.  It 
was  a  decidedly  unpleasant  discovery  for  me. 

While  he  was  asking  me  in  the  Sioux  language 
what  I  was  doing  there,  and  how  many  more  were 
in  the  party,  other  braves  began  crowding  through 
the  door  till  the  little  dugout  was  packed  as  full  of 
Sioux  warriors  as  it  could  hold. 

Outside  I  could  hear  the  stamping  of  horses  and 
the  voices  of  more  warriors.  I  made  up  my  mind 
it  was  all  over  but  the  scalping. 

And  then  a  stately  old  brave  worked  his  way 
through  the  crowd  and  came  toward  my  bunk. 
It  was  plain  from  the  deference  accorded  him  by 
the  others  that  he  was  a  chief.  And  as  soon  as  I 
set  eyes  on  him  I  recognized  him  as  old  Rain-in- 
the-Face,  whom  I  had  often  seen  and  talked  with 
at  Fort  Laramie,  and  whose  children  taught  me  the 


BUFFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STORY        41 

Sioux  language  as  we  played  about  the  wagon- 
beds  together.  Among  these  children  was  the  son 
who  succeeded  to  the  name  of  Rain-in-the-Face, 
and  who  years  later,  it  is  asserted,  killed  General 
George  A.  Custer  in  the  massacre  of  the  Little 
Big  Horn. 

I  showed  the  chief  my  broken  leg,  and  asked  him 
if  he  did  not  remember  me.  He  replied  that  he 
did.  I  asked  him  if  he  intended  to  kill  the  boy 
who  had  been  his  children's  playmate.  He  con- 
sulted with  his  warriors,  who  had  begun  busily  to 
loot  the  cabin.  After  a  long  parley  the  old  man 
told  me  that  my  life  would  be  spared,  but  my  gun 
and  pistol  and  all  my  provisions  would  be  re- 
garded as  the  spoils  of  the  war. 

Vainly  I  pointed  out  that  he  might  as  well  kill 
me  as  leave  me  without  food  or  the  means  to  de- 
fend myself  against  wolves.  He  said  that  his 
young  men  had  granted  a  great  deal  in  consenting 
^o  spare  my  life.  As  for  food,  he  pointed  to  the 
carcass  of  a  deer  that  hung  from  the  wall. 

The  next  morning  they  mounted  their  ponies 
and  galloped  away.  I  was  glad  enough  to  see 
them  go.  I  knew  that  my  life  had  hung  by  a 
thread  while  I  had  been  their  involuntary  host. 
Only  my  friendship  with  the  children  of  old  Rain- 
in-the-Face  had  saved  me. 

But,  even  with  the  Lidians  gone,  I  was  in  a 
desperate  situation.  As  they  had  taken  all  my 
matches  I  had  to  keep  the  fire  going  continuously. 
This  meant  that  I  could  not  sleep  long  at  a  time, 
and  the  lack  of  rest  soon  began  to  tell  on  me.    I 


42        BUFFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STORY 

would  cut  slices  from  the  deer  carcass  with  my 
knife,  and  holding  it  over  the  fire  with  a  long 
stick,  cook  it,  eating  it  without  salt.  Coffee  I  must 
do  without  altogether. 

The  second  day  after  the  departure  of  the  In- 
dians a  great  snow  fell.  The  drifts  blocked  the 
doorway  and  covered  the  windows.  It  lay  to  a 
depth  of  several  feet  on  the  roof  over  my  head. 
My  woodpile  was  covered  by  the  snow  that  drifted 
in  and  it  was  with  great  difficulty  that  I  could  get 
enough  wood  to  keep  my  little  fire  going.  And 
on  that  fire  depended  my  life.  Worse  than  all 
these  troubles  was  the  knowledge  that  the  heavy 
snow  would  be  sure  to  delay  Harrington. 

I  would  lie  there,  day  after  day,  a  prey  to  all 
sorts  of  dark  imaginings.  I  fancied  him  killed  by 
Indians  on  the  trail,  or  snowbound  and  starving 
on  the  Plains.  Each  morning  my  notches  on  my 
calendar  stick  were  made.  Gradually  their  num- 
ber grew  till  at  last  the  twentieth  was  duly  cut. 
But  no  Harrington  came. 

The  wolves,  smelling  meat  within,  had  now  be- 
gun to  gather  round  in  increasing  numbers.  They 
made  the  night  hideous  with  their  bowlings,  and 
pawed  and  scratched  and  dug  at  the  snow  by  the 
doorway,  determined  to  come  in  and  make  a  meal 
of  everything  the  dugout  contained,  myself  in- 
cluded. 

How  I  endured  it  I  do  not  know.  But  the 
Plains  teach  men  and  boys  fortitude.  Many  and 
many  a  time  as  I  lay  there  I  resolved  that  if  I 
should  ever  be  spared  to  go  back  to  my  home 


BUFFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STORY        43 

and  friends,  the  frontier  should  know  me  no 
more. 

It  was  on  the  twenty-ninth  day,  as  marked  on 
my  stick,  when  I  had  about  given  up  hope,  that 
I  heard  a  cheerful  voice  shouting  **Whoa!''  and 
joyfully  recognized  it  as  the  voice  of  Harrington. 
A  criminal  on  the  scaffold  with  the  noose  about 
his  neck  and  the  trap  sagging  underneath  his 
feet  could  not  have  welcomed  a  pardon  more 
eagerly  than  I  welcomed  my  deliverance  out  of 
this  torture-chamber. 

I  could  make  no  effort  to  open  the  door  for 
him.  But  I  found  voice  to  answer  him  when 
he  cried  ** Hello,  Billy!"  and  in  response  to  his 
question  assured  him  that  I  was  all  right.  He 
soon  cleared  a  passageway  through  the  snow,  and 
stood  beside  me. 

**I  never  expected  to  see  you  alive  again,"  he 
said;  *^I  had  a  terrible  trip.  I  didn't  think  I 
should  ever  get  through — caught  in  the  snowstorm 
and  laid  up  for  three  days.  The  cattle  wandered 
away  and  I  came  within  an  ace  of  losing  them 
altogether.  When  I  got  started  again  the  snow 
was  so  deep  I  couldn't  make  much  headway." 

**Well,  you're  here,"  I  said,  giving  him  a  hug. 

Harrington  had  made  a  trip  few  men  could 
have  made.  He  had  risked  his  life  to  save  mine. 
All  alone  he  had  brought  a  yoke  of  oxen  over  a 
country  where  the  trails  were  all  obscured  and 
the  blinding  snow  made  every  added  mile  more 
perilous. 

I  was  still  unable  to  walk,  and  he  had  to  do 


44        BUFFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STORY 

all  the  work  of  packing  up  for  the  trip  home.  In 
a  few  days  he  had  loaded  the  pelts  on  board  the 
wagon,  covered  it  with  the  wagon-sheet  we  had 
used  in  the  dugout,  and  made  me  a  comfortable 
bed  inside.  We  had  three  hundred  beaver  and 
one  hundred  otter  skins  to  show  for  our  work. 
That  meant  a  lot  of  money  when  we  should  get 
them  to  the  settlements. 

On  the  eighth  day  of  the  journey  home  we 
reached  a  ranch  on  the  Republican  River,  where 
we  rested  for  a  couple  of  days.  Then  we  went 
on  to  the  ranch  where  Harrington  had  obtained 
his  cattle  and  paid  for  the  yoke  with  twenty-five 
beaver  skins,  the  equivalent  of  a  hundred  dollars 
in  money. 

At  the  end  of  twenty  days'  travel  we  reached 
Salt  Creek  Valley,  where  I  was  welcomed  by  my 
mother  and  sisters  as  one  returned  from  the  dead. 

So  grateful  was  my  mother  to  Harrington  for 
what  he  had  done  for  me  that  she  insisted  on  his 
making  his  home  with  us.  This  he  decided  to 
do,  and  took  charge  of  our  farm.  The  next  spring, 
this  man,  who  had  safely  weathered  the  most 
perilous  of  journeys  over  the  Plains,  caught  cold 
while  setting  out  some  trees  and  fell  ill.  We 
brought  a  doctor  from  Lawrence,  and  did  every- 
thing in  our  power  to  save  him,  but  in  a  week 
he  died.  The  loss  of  a  member  of  our  own  family 
could  not  have  affected  us  more. 

I  was  now  in  my  fifteenth  year  and  possessed 
of  a  growing  appetite  for  adventure.  A  very  few 
months  had  so  dulled  the  memory  of  my  sufferings 


BUFFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STOET        45 

in  the  dugout  that  I  had  forgotten  all  about  my 
resolve  to  forsake  the  frontier  forever.  I  looked 
about  me  for  something  new  and  still  more  ex- 
citing. 

I  was  not  long  in  finding  it.  In  April,  1860, 
the  firm  of  Eussell,  Majors  &  Waddell  organized 
the  wonderful  **Pony  Express,"  the  most  pic- 
turesque messenger-service  that  this  country  has 
ever  seen.  The  route  was  from  St.  Joseph,  Mis- 
souri, to  Sacramento,  California,  a  distance  of 
two  thousand  miles,  across  the  Plains,  over  a 
dreary  stretch  of  sagebrush  and  alkali  desert,  and 
through  two  great  mountain  ranges. 

The  system  was  really  a  relay  race  against  time. 
Stations  were  built  at  intervals  averaging  fifteen 
miles  apart.  A  rider's  route  covered  three  sta- 
tions, with  an  exchange  of  horses  at  each,  so  that 
he  was  expected  at  the  beginning  to  cover  close 
to  forty-five  miles — a  good  ride  when  one  must 
average  fifteen  miles  an  hour. 

The  firm  undertaking  the  enterprise  had  been 
busy  for  some  time  picking  the  best  ponies  to 
be  had  for  money,  and  the  lightest,  most  wiry 
and  most  experienced  riders.  This  was  a  life  that 
appealed  to  me,  and  I  struck  for  a  job.  I  was 
pretty  young  in  years,  but  I  had  already  earned 
a  reputation  for  coming  safe  out  of  perilous  ad- 
ventures, and  I  was  hired. 

Naturally  our  equipment  was  the  very  lightest. 
The  messages  which  we  carried  were  written  on 
the  thinnest  paper  to  be  found.  These  we  carried 
in  a  waterproof  pouch,  slung  under  our  arms.    We 


46        BUFFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STORY 

wore  only  such  clotliing  as  was  absolutely  nec- 
essary. 

The  first  trip  of  the  Pony  Express  was  made 
in  ten  days — an  average  of  two  hundred  miles  a 
day.  But  we  soon  began  stretching  our  riders 
and  making  better  time.  Soon  we  shortened  the 
time  to  eight  days.  President  Buchanan's  last 
Presidential  message  in  December,  1860,  was  car- 
ried in  eight  days.  President  Lincoln's  inaugural, 
the  following  March,  took  only  seven  days  and 
seventeen  hours  for  the  journey  between  St. 
Joseph  and  Sacramento. 

We  soon  got  used  to  the  work.  When  it  be- 
came apparent  to  the  men  in  charge  that  the  boys 
could  do  better  than  forty-five  miles  a  day  the 
stretches  were  lengthened.  The  pay  of  the  rider 
was  from  $100  to  $125  a  month.  It  was  announced 
that  the  further  a  man  rode  the  better  would  be 
his  pay.  That  put  speed  and  endurance  into  all 
of  us. 

Stern  necessity  often  compelled  us  to  lengthen 
our  day's  work  even  beyond  our  desires.  In  the 
hostile  Indian  country,  riders  were  frequently 
shot.  In  such  an  event  the  man  whose  relief  had 
been  killed  had  to  ride  on  to  the  next  station, 
doing  two  men's  ride.  Road-agents  were  another 
menace,  and  often  they  proved  as  deadly  as  the 
Indians. 

In  stretching  my  own  route  I  found  myself  get- 
ting further  and  further  west.  Finally  I  was 
riding  well  into  the  foothills  of  the  Rockies.  Still 
further  west  my  route  was  pushed.    Soon  I  rode 


BUFFALO  BILLYS  OWN  STORY        47 

from  Eed  Buttes  to  Sweetwater,  a  distance  of 
seventy-six  miles.  Road-agents  and  Indians  in- 
fested this  country.  I  never  was  quite  sure  when 
I  started  out  when  I  should  reach  my  destination, 
or  whether  I  should  never  reach  it  at  all. 

One  day  I  galloped  into  the  station  at  Three 
Crossings  to  find  that  my  relief  had  been  killed 
in  a  drunken  row  the  night  before.  There  was 
no  one  to  take  his  place.  His  route  was  eighty- 
five  miles  across  country  to  the  west.  I  had  no 
time  to  think  it  over.  Selecting  a  good  pony  out 
of  the  stables  I  was  soon  on  my  way. 

I  arrived  at  Rocky  Ridge,  the  end  of  the  new 

route,  on  schedule  time,  and  turning  back  came 

on  to  Red  Buttes,  my  starting-place.    The  round 

trip  was  320  miles,  and  I  made  it  in  twenty-one 

\  hours  and  forty  minutes. 

^--'Excitement  was  plentiful  during  my  two  years' 
service  as  a  Pony  Express  rider.  One  day  as 
I  was  leaving  Horse  Creek,  a  party  of  fifteen 
Indians  jammed  me  in  a  sand  ravine  eight  miles 
west  of  the  station.  They  fired  at  me  repeatedly, 
but  my  luck  held,  and  I  went  unscathed.  My 
mount  was  a  California  roan  pony,  the  fastest 
in  the  stables.  I  dug  the  spurs  into  his  sides, 
and,  lying  flat  on  his  back,  I  kept  straight  on 
for  Sweetwater  Bridge  eleven  miles  distant.  A 
turn  back  to  Horse  Creek  might  have  brought  me 
more  speedily  to  shelter,  but  I  did  not  dare  risk  it. 

The  Indians  came  on  behind,  riding  with  all 
the  speed  they  could  put  into  their  horses,  but 
my  pony  drew  rapidly  ahead.    I  had  a  lead  of 


48        BUFFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STORY 

two  miles  when  I  reached  the  station.  There  I 
found  I  could  get  no  new  pony.  The  stock-tender 
had  been  killed  by  the  Indians  during  the  night. 
All  his  ponies  had  been  stolen  and  driven  off.  I 
kept  on,  therefore,  to  Plonts  Station,  twelve  miles 
further  along,  riding  the  same  pony — a  ride  of 
twenty-four  miles  on  one  mount.  At  Plonts  I 
told  the  people  what  had  happened  at  Sweetwater 
Bridge.  Then,  with  a  fresh  horse,  I  finished  my 
route  without  further  adventure. 


CHAPTEE  n 

About  the  middle  of  September  the  Indians  be- 
came very  troublesome  on  the  line  of  the  stage 
along  the  Sweetwater,  between  Split  Rock  and 
Three  Crossings.  A  stage  had  been  robbed  and 
two  passengers  killed  outright.  Lem  Flowers,  the 
driver,  was  badly  wounded.  The  thievish  redskins 
also  drove  stock  repeatedly  from  the  stations. 
They  were  continually  lying  in  wait  for  passing 
stages  and  Pony  Express  riders.  It  was  useless 
to  keep  the  Express  going  until  these  depreda- 
tions could  be  stopped.  A  lay-off  of  six  weeks 
was  ordered,  and  our  time  was  our  own. 

While  we  were  thus  idle  a  party  was  organized 
to  carry  the  war  into  the  Indians'  own  country, 
and  teach  them  that  the  white  man's  property 
must  be  let  alone.    This  party  I  joined. 

Stage-drivers,  express-riders,  stock-tenders  and 
ranchmen,  forty  in  number,  composed  this  party. 
All  were  well  armed;  all  were  good  shots,  and 
brave,  determined  men.  **Wild  Bill"  Hickock, 
another  of  the  Western  gunmen  of  whom  I  shall 
have  something  to  tell  later,  was  captain  of  the  ex- 
pedition. He  had  come  recently  to  our  division 
as  a  stage-driver  and  had  the  experience  and 
courage  necessary  to  that  kind  of  leadership. 

Twenty  miles  out  from  Sweetwater  Bridge,  at 
the  head  of  Horse  Creek,  we  found  an  Indian  trail 

49 


50        BUFFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STORY 

running  north  toward  Powder  Eiver.  We  could 
see  that  the  horses  had  been  recently  shod,  con- 
clusive proof  that  they  were  our  stolen  stock. 
We  pushed  on  as  fast  as  we  could  along  the  trail 
to  the  Powder,  thence  down  this  stream  to  within 
forty  miles  of  where  old  Fort  Reno  now  stands. 
Farther  on,  at  Crazy  Woman's  Fork,  we  saw 
evidence  that  another  party  had  joined  our  quarry. 
The  trail  was  newly  made.  The  Indians  could 
be  hardly  more  than  twenty-four  hours  ahead  of 
us.    And  plainly  there  was  a  lot  of  them. 

When  we  reached  Clear  Creek,  another  trib- 
utary of  the  Powder,  we  saw  horses  grazing  on 
the  opposite  bank.  Horses  meant  Indians.  Never 
before  had  the  redskins  been  followed  so  far  into 
their  own  country.  Not  dreaming  that  they  would 
be  pursued  they  had  failed  to  put  out  scouts. 

We  quickly  got  the  *4ay"  of  their  camp,  and 
held  a  council  to  decide  on  how  to  attack  them. 
We  knew  that  they  outnumbered  us  three  to  one 
— ^perhaps  more.  Without  strategy,  all  we  would 
get  for  our  long  chase  would  be  the  loss  of  our 
scalps. 

**Wild  Bill,"  who  did  not  know  the  meaning 
of  fear,  made  our  plan  for  us.  We  were  to  wait 
till  nightfall,  and  then,  after  creeping  up  as  close 
as  possible  on  the  camp,  make  a  grand  ride  right 
through  it,  open  a  general  fire  upon  them,  and 
stampede  their  horses. 

It  was  a  plan  that  called  for  nerv^,  but  we 
were  full  of  spirit,  and  the  more  danger  there 
was  in  an  enterprise  the  more  we  relished  it. 


BUFFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STORY        51 

At  our  captain's  signal  we  rushed  pell-mell 
through  their  camp.  Had  we  dropped  from  the 
clouds  the  Indians  could  not  have  been  more 
astonished.  At  the  sound  of  our  shots  they  scat- 
tered in  every  direction,  yelling  warnings  to  each 
other  as  they  fled. 

Once  clear  of  the  camp  we  circled  to  the  south 
and  came  back  to  make  sure  that  we  had  done  a 
thorough  job.  A  few  parting  shots  stampeded 
the  stragglers.  Then,  with  one  hundred  captured 
ponies — most,  if  not  all  of  them,  stolen  from  the 
Express  and  State  stations — we  rode  back  to 
Sweetwater  Bridge. 

The  recovered  horses  were  placed  on  the  road 
again,  and  the  Express  was  resumed.  Slade,  who 
was  greatly  pleased  with  our  exploit,  now  assigned 
me  as  special  or  supernumerary  rider.  There- 
after while  I  was  with  him  I  had  a  comparatively 
easy  time  of  it,  riding  only  now  and  then,  and 
having  plenty  of  opportunity  for  seeking  after 
the  new  adventures  in  which  I  delighted. 

Alf  Slade,  stage-line  superintendent,  frontiers- 
man, and  dare-devil  fighting  man,  was  one  of  the 
far-famed  gunmen  of  the  Plains.  These  were  a 
race  of  men  bred  by  the  perils  and  hard  conditions 
of  Western  life.  They  became  man-killers  first 
from  stern  necessity.  In  that  day  the  man  who 
was  not  quick  on  the  trigger  had  little  chance 
with  the  outlaws  among  whom  he  had  to  live. 
Slade  and  *^Wild  Bill,"  with  both  of  whom  I  be- 
came closely  associated,  were  men  of  nerve  and 
courage.    But  both,  having  earned  the  reputation 


52        BUFFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STORY 

of  gun-fighters,  became  too  eager  to  live  up  to  it. 
Eventually  both  became  outlaws. 

Slade,  though  always  a  dangerous  man,  and 
extremely  rough  in  his  manner,  never  failed  to 
treat  me  with  kindness.  Sober,  he  was  cool  and 
self-possessed,  but  never  a  man  to  be  trifled  with. 
Drunk,  he  was  a  living  fury.  His  services  to  the 
company  for  which  he  worked  were  of  high  value. 
He  was  easily  the  best  superintendent  on  the  line. 
But  his  habit  of  man-killing  at  last  resulted  in  his 
execution. 

Another  man  who  gained  even  greater  notoriety 
than  Slade  was  '^Wild  BilP'  Hickock,  a  tall,  yel- 
low-haired giant  who  had  done  splendid  service 
as  a  scout  in  the  western  sector  of  the  Civil  War. 

**Wild  BilP'  I  had  known  since  1857.  He  and 
I  shared  the  pleasure  of  walking  a  thousand  miles 
to  the  Missouri  Eiver,  after  the  bull-train  in  which 
we  both  were  employed  had  been  burned  by  Lot 
Smith,  the  Mormon  raider.  Afterward  we  rode 
the  Pony  Express  together. 

While  an  express  rider,  Bill  had  the  fight  with 
the  McCandless  gang  which  will  always  form  an 
interesting  chapter  in  the  history  of  the  West. 

Coming  into  his  swing  station  at  Rock  Creek 
one  day.  Bill  failed  to  arouse  any  one  with  his 
shouts  for  a  fresh  mount.  This  was  a  certain 
indication  of  trouble.  It  was  the  stock-tender's 
business  to  be  on  hand  with  a  relief  pony  the 
instant  the  rider  came  in.  The  Pony  Express 
did  not  tolerate  delays. 

Galloping  into  the  yard.  Bill  dismounted  and 


BUFFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STORY        53 

hurried  to  the  stable.  In  the  door  he  saw  the 
stock-tender  lying  dead,  and  at  the  same  instant 
a  woman's  screams  rang  from  the  cabin  near  by. 
Turning  about,  Bill  found  himself  face  to  face 
with  a  ruffian  who  was  rushing  from  the  house, 
brandishing  a  six-shooter.  He  asked  no  ques- 
tions, but  pulled  one  of  the  two  guns  he  carried 
and  fired.  No  sooner  had  the  man  fallen,  how- 
ever, than  a  second,  also  armed,  came  out  of 
the  house.  Hickock  disposed  of  this  fellow  also, 
and  then  entered  the  place,  where  four  others 
opened  a  fusillade  on  him. 

Although  the  room  was  thick  with  smoke,  and 
Bill  had  to  use  extreme  care  to  avoid  hitting  the 
woman,  who  was  screaming  in  the  corner,  he 
managed  to  kill  two  of  his  assailants  with  his 
revolvers  and  to  ward  off  a  blow  with  a  rifle  a 
third  had  leveled  at  him. 

The  blow  knocked  the  weapon  from  his  hand, 
but  his  knife  was  still  left  him,  and  with  it  he 
put  the  man  with  'the  rifle  out  of  the  way.  His 
troubles  were  not  at  an  end,  however.  Another 
man  came  climbing  in  the  window  to  avenge  his 
fellow  gangsters.  Bill  reached  for  a  rifle  which 
lay  on  the  floor  and  shot  first. 

When  he  took  count  a  few  minutes  later  he 
discovered  that  he  had  killed  five  men  and  wounded 
a  sixth,  who  escaped  in  the  thick  of  the  fight. 

The  woman,  who  had  been  knocked  unconscious 
by  one  of  the  desperadoes,  was  soon  revived.  She 
was  the  stock-tender's  wife,  and  had  been  attacked 
by  the  gang  as  soon  as  they  had  slain  her  husband. 


54        BUFFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STORY 

The  passengers  of  the  Overland  stage,  which 
rolled  in  as  Bill  was  reviving  the  terrified  woman, 
were  given  a  view  of  Western  life  which  none  of 
them  ever  forgot. 

Bill  was  the  hero  of  the  occasion,  and  a  real 
hero  he  was,  for  probably  never  has  a  man  won 
such  a  victory  against  such  terrific  odds  in  all 
the  history  of  the  war  against  the  ruffians  of  the 
West. 

It  was  at  Springfield,  Missouri,  that  Bill  had 
his  celebrated  fight  with  Dave  Tutt.  The  fight 
put  an  end  to  Tutt's  career.  I  was  a  personal 
witness  to  another  of  his  gun  exploits,  in  which, 
though  the  chances  were  all  against  him,  he  pro- 
tected his  own  life  and  incidentally  his  money. 
An  inveterate  poker  player,  he  got  into  a  game 
in  Springfield  with  big  players  and  for  high  stakes. 
Sitting  by  the  table,  I  noticed  that  he  seemed 
sleepy  and  inattentive.  So  I  kept  a  close  watch 
on  the  other  fellows.  Presently  I  observed  that 
one  of  his  opponents  was  occasionally  dropping  a 
card  in  his  hat,  which  he  held  in  his  lap,  until  a 
number  of  cards  had  been  laid  away  for  future 
use  in  the  game. 

The  pot  had  gone  around  several  times  and 
was  steadily  raised  by  some  of  the  players.  Bill 
staying  right  along,  though  he  still  seemed  to  be 
drowsy. 

The  bets  kept  rising.  At  last  the  man  with 
the  hatful  of  cards  picked  a  hand  out  of  his  re- 
serves, put  the  hat  on  his  head  and  raised  Bill 
two   hundred  dollars.    Bill   came   back  with   a 


BUFFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STORY        55 

raise  of  two  hundred,  and  as  the  other  covered  it 
he  quietly  shoved  a  pistol  into  his  face  and  ob- 
served : 

**I  am  calling  the  hand  that  is  in  your  hatP' 

Gathering  in  the  pot  with  his  left  hand,  he 
held  the  pistol  with  his  right  and  inquired  if  any 
of  the  players  had  any  objections  to  offer.  They 
hastened  to  reply  that  they  had  no  objections 
whatever  and  we  went  away  from  there. 

**Bill,"  I  said,  when  we  were  well  outside  the 
place,  **I  had  been  noticing  that  fellow's  play 
right  along,  but  I  thought  you  hadn't.  I  was 
going  to  get  into  the  game  myself  if  he  beat  you 
out  of  that  money." 

** Billy,"  replied  Hickock,  ^*I  don't  want  you 
ever  to  learn  it,  but  that  is  one  of  my  favorite 
poker  tricks.  It  always  wins  against  crooked 
players. ' ' 

Not  all  of  the  gunmen  of  the  West  began 
straight.  Some  of  them — many,  in  fact — were 
thieves  and  murderers  from  the  beginning.  Such 
were  the  members  of  the  McCandless  gang,  which 
Hickock  disposed  of  so  thoroughly.  All  along  the 
stage  route  were  robbers  and  man-killers  far  more 
vicious  than  the  Indians.  Very  early  in  my  career 
as  a  frontiersman  I  had  an  encounter  with  a  party 
of  these  from  which  I  was  extremely  fortunate 
to  escape  with  my  life. 

I  employed  the  leisure  afforded  me  by  my  as- 
signment as  an  extra  rider  in  hunting  excursions, 
in  which  I  took  a  keen  delight.  I  was  returning 
home  empty-handed  from  a  bear  hunt,  when  night 


56        BUFFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STORY 

overtook  me  in  a  lonely  spot  near  a  mountain 
stream.  I  had  killed  two  sage-hens  and  built 
a  little  fire  over  which  to  broil  them  before  my 
night's  rest. 

Suddenly  I  heard  a  horse  whinny  farther  up 
the  stream.  Thinking  instantly  of  Indians,  I  ran 
quickly  to  my  own  horse  to  prevent  him  from 
answering  the  call,  and  thus  revealing  my  pres- 
ence. 

Filled  with  uneasiness  as  to  who  and  what  my 
human  neighbors  might  be,  I  resaddled  my  horse, 
and,  leaving  him  tied  where  I  could  reach  him 
in  a  hurry  if  need  be,  made  my  way  up-stream 
to  reconnoiter.  As  I  came  around  a  bend  I  re- 
ceived an  unpleasant  shock.  Not  one  horse, 
but  fifteen  horses,  were  grazing  just  ahead  of 
me. 

On  the  opposite  side  of  the  creek  a  light  shone 
high  up  the  mountain  bank — a  light  from  the 
window  of  a  dugout.  I  drew  near  very  cau- 
tiously till  I  came  within  sound  of  voices  within 
the  place,  and  discovered  that  its  occupants  were 
conversing  in  my  own  language.  That  relieved 
me.  I  knew  the  strangers  to  be  white  men.  I 
supposed  them  to  be  trappers,  and,  walking  boldly 
to  the  door,  I  knocked. 

Instantly  the  voices  ceased.  There  ensued  abso- 
lute silence  for  a  space,  and  then  came  whisper- 
ings, and  sounds  of  men  quietly  moving  about 
the  dirt  floor. 

** Who's  there?"  called  someone. 

'*A  friend  and  a  white  man,"  I  replied. 


BUFFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STORY        57 

The  door  opened,  and  a  big,  ugly-looking  fellow 
stood  before  me. 

**Come  in,"  he  ordered. 

I  accepted  the  invitation  with  hesitation,  but 
there  was  nothing  else  to  do.  To  retreat  would 
have  meant  pursuit  and  probably  death. 

Eight  of  the  most  villainous-appearing  ruffians 
I  have  ever  set  eyes  upon  sat  about  the  dugout 
as  I  entered.  Two  of  them  I  recognized  at  once 
as  teamsters  who  had  been  employed  by  Simpson 
a  few  months  before.  Both  had  been  charged 
with  murdering  a  ranchman  and  stealing  his 
horses.  Simpson  had  promptly  discharged  them, 
and  it  was  supposed  that  they  had  left  the 
country. 

I  gave  them  no  sign  of  recognition.  I  was 
laying  my  plans  to  get  out  of  there  as  speedily 
as  possible.  I  was  now  practically  certain  that 
I  had  uncovered  the  hiding-place  of  a  gang  of 
horse-thieves  who  could  have  no  possible  reason 
to  feel  anything  but  hostility  toward  an  honest 
man.  The  leader  of  the  gang  swaggered  toward 
me  and  inquired  menacingly: 

** Where  are  you  going,  young  man,  and  who's 
with  you?" 

**I  am  entirely  alone,"  I  returned.  *'I  left 
Horseshoe  Station  this  morning  for  a  bear  hunt. 
Not  finding  any  bears,  I  was  going  to  camp  out 
till  morning.  I  heard  one  of  your  horses  whinny- 
ing, and  came  up  to  your  camp." 

** Where  is  your  horse?" 

**I  left  him  down  the  creek." 


58        BUFFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STOEY 

They  proposed  going  for  the  horse,  which  was 
my  only  means  of  getting  rid  of  their  un- 
welcome society.  I  tried  strategy  to  forestall 
them. 

**I'll  go  and  get  him,''  I  said.  *'I'll  leave  my 
gun  here." 

This,  I  fancied,  would  convince  them  that  I 
intended  to  return,  but  it  didn't. 

'*  Jim  and  I  will  go  with  you,"  said  one  of  the 
thieves.  **You  can  leave  your  gun  here  if  you 
want  to.    You  won't  need  it." 

I  saw  that  if  I  was  to  get  away  at  all  I  would 
have  to  be  extremely  alert.  These  were  old  hands, 
and  were  not  to  be  easily  fooled.  I  felt  it  safer, 
however,  to  trust  myself  with  two  men  than  with 
six,  so  I  volunteered  to  show  the  precious  pair 
where  I  had  left  the  horse,  and  led  them  to  my 
camp. 

The  animal  was  secured,  and  as  one  of  the  men 
started  to  lead  him  up  the  stream  I  picked  up 
the  two  sage-hens  I  had  intended  for  my  evening 
meal.  The  more  closely  we  approached  the  dug- 
out the  less  I  liked  the  prospect  of  reentering  it. 
One  plan  of  escape  had  failed.  I  was  sure  the 
ruffians  had  no  intention  of  permitting  me  to  leave 
them  and  inform  the  stage  people  of  their  pres- 
ence in  the  country. 

One  more  plan  suggested  itself  to  me,  and  I 
lost  no  time  in  trying  it.  Dropping  one  of  the 
sage-hens,  I  asked  the  man  behind  me  to  pick 
it  up.  As  he  was  groping  for  it  in  the  darkness, 
I  pulled  one  of  my  Colt's  revolvers,  and  hit  him 


BUFFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STORY        59 

a  terrific  blow  over  the  head.  He  dropped  to  the 
ground,  senseless. 

Wheeling  about,  I  saw  that  the  other  man, 
hearing  the  fall,  had  turned,  his  hand  upon  his 
revolver.  It  was  no  time  for  argument.  I  fired 
and  killed  him.  Then,  leaping  on  my  horse,  I 
dug  the  spurs  into  his  sides,  and  back  down  the 
trail  we  went,  over  the  rocks  and  rough  ground 
toward  safety. 

My  peril  was  far  from  past.  At  the  sound  of 
the  shot  the  six  men  in  the  dugout  tumbled  forth 
in  hot  haste.  They  stopped  an  instant  at  the  scene 
of  the  shooting,  possibly  to  revive  the  man  I  had 
stunned  and  to  learn  from  him  what  had  hap- 
pened. 

They  were  too  wise  to  mount  their  horses, 
knowing  that,  afoot,  they  could  make  better  time 
over  the  rocky  country  than  I  could  on  horseback. 
Steadily  I  heard  them  gaining,  and  soon  made 
up  my  mind  that  if  I  was  to  evade  them  at  all 
I  must  abandon  my  horse. 

Jumping  off,  I  gave  him  a  smart  slap  with  the 
butt  of  my  revolver  which  sent  him  down  the 
valley.  I  turned  and  began  to  scramble  up  the 
mountainside. 

I  had  climbed  hardly  forty  feet  when  I  heard 
them  pass,  following  the  sound  of  my  horse 's  feet. 
I  dodged  behind  a  tree  as  they  went  by,  and  when 
I  heard  them  firing  farther  down  the  trail  I  worked 
my  way  up  the  mountainside. 

It  was  twenty-five  miles  to  Horseshoe  Station, 
and  very  hard  traveling  the  first  part  of  the  way. 


60        BUFFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STOEY 

But  I  got  to  the  station  just  before  daylight, 
weary  and  footsore,  but  exceedingly  thankful. 

Tired  as  I  was,  I  woke  up  the  men  at  the  sta- 
tion and  told  them  of  my  adventure.  Slade  him- 
self led  the  party  that  set  out  to  capture  my 
former  hosts,  and  I  went  along,  though  nearly 
beat  out. 

Twenty  of  us,  after  a  brisk  ride,  reached  the 
dugout  at  ten  o'clock  in  the  morning.  But  the 
thieves  had  gone.  We  found  a  newly  made  grave 
where  they  had  buried  the  man  I  had  to  kill, 
and  a  trail  leading  southwest  toward  Denver. 
That  was  all.  But  my  adventure  at  least  resulted 
in  clearing  the  country  of  horse-thieves.  Once 
the  gang  had  gone,  no  more  depredations  occurred 
for  a  long  time. 

After  a  year's  absence  from  home  I  began  to 
long  to  see  my  mother  and  sisters  again.  In  June, 
1861,  I  got  a  pass  over  the  stage-line,  and  re- 
turned to  Leavenworth.  The  first  rumblings  of 
the  great  struggle  that  was  soon  to  be  known 
as  the  Civil  War  were  already  reverberating 
throughout  the  North;  Sumter  had  been  fired  upon 
in  April  of  that  year.  Kansas,  as  every  school- 
boy knows,  was  previously  the  bloody  scene  of 
some  of  the  earliest  conflicts. 

My  mother's  sympathies  were  strongly  with 
the  Union.  She  knew  that  war  was  bound  to  come, 
but  so  confident  was  she  in  the  strength  of  the 
Federal  Government  that  she  devoutly  believed 
that  the  struggle  could  not  last  longer  than  six 
months  at  the  utmost. 


BUFFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STOEY        61 

Fort  Leavenworth  and  the  town  of  Leaven- 
worth were  still  important  outfitting  posts  for 
the  soldiers  in  the  West  and  Southwest.  The 
fort  was  strongly  garrisoned  by  regular  troops. 
Volunteers  were  undergoing  training.  Many  of 
my  boyhood  friends  were  enlisting.  I  was  eager 
to  join  them. 

But  I  was  still  the  breadwinner  of  the  family, 
the  sole  support  of  my  sisters  and  my  invalid 
mother.  Not  because  of  this,  but  because  of  her 
love  for  me,  my  mother  exacted  from  me  a  prom- 
ise that  I  would  not  enlist  for  the  war  while  she 
lived. 

But  during  the  summer  of  1861  a  purely  local 
company,  know  as  the  Eed-Legged  Scouts,  and 
commanded  by  Captain  Bill  Tuff,  was  organized. 
This  I  felt  I  could  join  without  breaking  my 
promise  not  to  enlist  for  the  war,  and  join  it  I 
did.  The  Eed-Legged  Scouts,  while  they  cooper- 
ated with  the  regular  army  along  the  borders  of 
Missouri,  had  for  their  specific  duty  the  protec- 
tion of  Kansas  against  raiders  like  Quantrell,  and 
such  bandits  as  the  James  Boys,  the  Younger 
Brothers,  and  other  desperadoes  who  conducted 
a  guerrilla  warfare  against  Union  settlers. 

We  had  plenty  to  do.  The  guerrillas  were  dar- 
ing fellows  and  kept  us  busy.  They  robbed  banks, 
raided  villages,  burned  buildings,  and  looted  and 
plundered  wherever  there  was  loot  or  plunder  to 
be  had. 

But  Tuff  was  the  same  kind  of  a  fighting  man 
as  they,  and  working  in  a  better  cause.    With  his 


62        BUFFALO  BILLYS  OWN  STOKY 

scouts  he  put  the  fear  of  the  law  into  the  hearts 
of  the  guerrillas,  and  they  notably  decreased  their 
depredations  in  consequence. 

Whenever  and  wherever  we  found  that  the  scat- 
tered bands  were  getting  together  for  a  general 
raid  we  would  at  once  notify  the  regulars  at  Fort 
Scott  or  Fort  Leavenworth  to  be  ready  for  them. 
Quantrell  once  managed  to  collect  a  thousand 
men  in  a  hurry,  and  to  raid  and  sack  Lawrence 
before  the  troops  could  head  them  off.  But  when 
we  got  on  their  trail  they  were  driven  speedily; 
back  into  Missouri. 

In  the  meantime  we  took  care  that  little  mis- 
chief was  done  by  the  gangs  headed  by  the  James 
Boys  and  the  Youngers,  who  operated  in  Quan- 
trelPs  wake  and  in  small  bands. 

In  the  spring  of  '63  I  left  the  Eed-Legged 
Scouts  to  serve  the  Federal  Government  as  guide 
and  scout  with  the  Ninth  Kansas  Cavalry.  The 
Kiowas  and  Comanches  were  giving  trouble  along 
the  old  Santa  Fe  trail  and  among  the  settlements 
of  western  Kansas.  The  Ninth  Kansas  were  sent 
to  tame  them  and  to  protect  immigrants  and  set- 
tlers. 

This  was  work  that  I  well  understood.  We 
had  a  lively  summer,  for  the  Indians  kept  things 
stirring,  but  after  a  summer  of  hard  fighting  we 
made  them  understand  that  the  Great  White  Chief 
was  a  power  that  the  Indians  had  better  not  irri- 
tate. November,  '63,  I  returned  with  the  com- 
mand to  Leavenworth.  I  had  money  in  my 
pockets,  for  my  pay  had  been  $150  a  month,  and 


BUFFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STOKY        63 

I  was  able  to  lay  in  an  abundant  supply  of  pro- 
visions for  my  family. 

On  the  twenty-third  day  of  December  my  mother 
passed  away.  Her  life  had  been  an  extremely 
hard  one,  but  she  had  borne  up  bravely  under 
poverty  and  privation,  supplying  with  her  own 
teaching  the  education  that  the  frontier  schools 
could  not  give  her  children,  and  by  her  Christian 
example  setting  them  all  on  a  straight  road 
through  life. 

Border  ruffians  killed  her  husband,  almost 
within  sight  of  her  home.  She  passed  months 
in  terror  and  distress  and,  until  I  became  old 
enough  to  provide  for  her,  often  suffered  from 
direst  poverty.  Yet  she  never  complained  for 
herself;  her  only  thoughts  being  for  her  children 
and  the  sufferings  that  were  visited  upon  them 
because  of  their  necessary  upbringing  in  a  rough 
and  wild  country. 

My  sister  Julia  was  now  married  to  Al  Good- 
man, a  fine  and  capable  young  man,  and  I  was 
free  to  follow  the  promptings  of  an  adventurous 
nature  and  go  where  my  companions  were  fight- 
ing. In  January,  1864,  the  Seventh  Kansas  Vol- 
unteers came  to  Leavenworth  from  the  South, 
where  they  had  been  fighting  since  the  early  years 
of  the  war.  Among  them  I  found  many  of  my 
old  friends  and  schoolmates.  I  was  no  longer 
under  promise  not  to  take  part  in  the  war  and 
I  enlisted  as  a  private. 

In  March  of  that  year  the  regiment  was  em- 
barked on  steamboats  and  sent  to  Memphis,  Ten- 


64        BUFFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STORY 

nessee,  where  we  joined  the  command  of  General 
A.  J.  Smith.  General  Smith  was  organizing  an 
army  to  fight  the  illiterate  but  brilliant  Con- 
federate General  Forrest,  who  was  then  mak- 
ing a  great  deal  of  trouble  in  southern  Tennes- 
see. 

While  we  were  mobilizing  near  Memphis,  Colo- 
nel Herrick  of  our  regiment  recommended  me  to 
General  Smith  for  membership  in  a  picked  corps 
to  be  used  for  duty  as  scouts,  messengers,  and 
dispatch  carriers.  Colonel  Herrick  recounted  my 
history  as  a  plainsman,  which  convinced  the  com- 
mander that  I  would  be  useful  in  this  special  line 
of  duty. 

When  I  reported  to  General  Smith,  he  invited 
me  into  his  tent  and  inquired  minutely  into  my 
life  as  a  scout. 

**You  ought  to  be  able  to  render  me  valuable 
service,''  he  said. 

When  I  replied  that  I  should  be  only  too  glad 
to  do  so,  he  got  out  a  map  of  Tennessee,  and 
on  it  showed  me  where  he  believed  General  For- 
rest's command  to  be  located.  His  best  informa- 
tion was  that  the  Confederate  commander  was 
then  in  the  neighborhood  of  Okolona,  Mississippi, 
about  two  hundred  miles  south  of  Memphis. 

He  instructed  me  to  disguise  myself  as  a  Ten- 
nessee boy,  to  provide  myself  with  a  farm  horse 
from  the  stock  in  the  camp,  and  to  try  to  locate 
Forrest's  main  command.  Having  accomplished 
this,  I  was  to  gather  all  the  information  possible 
concerning  the  enemy's  strength  in  men  and  equip- 


BUFFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STORY        65 

ment  and  defenses,  and  to  make  my  way  back  as 
speedily  as  possible. 

General  Smith  expected  to  start  south  the  fol- 
lowing morning,  and  he  showed  me  on  the  map 
the  wagon  road  he  planned  to  follow,  so  that  I 
might  know  where  to  find  him  on  my  return.  He 
told  me  before  we  parted  that  the  mission  on 
which  he  was  sending  me  was  exceedingly  dan- 
gerous. **If  you  are  captured,"  he  said,  **you 
will  be  shot  as  a  spy.'' 

To  this  I  replied  that  my  Indian  scouting  trips 
had  been  equally  dangerous,  as  capture  meant 
torture  and  death,  yet  I  had  always  willingly  un- 
dertaken them. 

**Do  you  think  you  can  find  Forrest's  army!" 
he  said.  **Well,  if  you  can't  find  an  army  as  big 
as  that  you're  a  mighty  poor  scout,"  he  said 
grimly. 

General  Smith  then  turned  me  over  to  the  man 
who  was  in  charge  of  what  was  called  *  *  the  refuge 
herd,"  from  which  I  found  a  mount  built  on  the 
lines  of  the  average  Tennessee  farm  horse.  This 
man  also  provided  me  with  a  suit  of  farmer's 
clothing,  for  which  I  exchanged  my  new  soldier 
uniform,  and  a  bag  of  provisions.  Leading  me 
about  a  mile  from  camp,  he  left  me  with  the 
warning : 

**Look  out,  young  fellow.  You're  taking  a 
dangerous  trip."  Then  we  shook  hands  and  I 
began  my  journey. 

I  had  studied  carefully  the  map  General  Smith 
had  shown  me,  and  had  a  fairly  accurate  idea  of 


66        BUFFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STOEY 

the  direction  I  was  supposed  to  take.  Following 
a  wagon  road  that  led  to  the  south,  I  made  nearly 
sixty  miles  the  first  night.  The  mare  I  had  chosen 
proved  a  good  traveler. 

When  morning  came  I  saw  a  big  plantation, 
with  the  owner's  and  negroes'  houses,  just  ahead 
of  me.  I  was  anxious  to  learn  how  my  disguise 
was  going  to  work,  and  therefore  rode  boldly 
up  to  the  house  of  the  overseer  and  asked  if  I 
could  get  rest  and  some  sort  of  breakfast. 

In  response  to  his  inquiries  I  said  I  was  a 
Tennesseean,  and  on  my  way  to  Holly  Springs. 
I  used  my  best  imitation  of  the  Southern  dialect, 
which  I  can  still  use  on  occasion,  and  it  was 
perfectly  successful.  I  was  given  breakfast,  my 
mare  was  fed,  and  I  slept  most  of  the  day  in  a 
haystack,  taking  up  my  journey  again  immedi- 
ately after  dinner. 

Thereafter  I  had  confidence  in  my  disguise, 
and,  while  making  no  effort  to  fall  into  conversa- 
tion with  people,  I  did  not  put  myself  out  to 
evade  anyone  whom  I  met.  None  of  those  with 
whom  I  talked  suspected  me  of  being  a  Northern 
spy. 

At  the  end  of  a  few  days  I  saw  that  I  was 
near  a  large  body  of  troops.  It  was  in  the  morn- 
ing after  a  hard  day-and-night  ride.  Fearing  to 
approach  the  outposts  looking  weary  and  fagged 
out,  I  rested  for  an  hour,  and  then  rode  up  and 
accosted  one  of  them.  To  his  challenge  I  said 
I  was  a  country  boy,  and  had  come  in  to  see 
the  soldiers.    My  father  and  brother,  I  said,  were 


BUFFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STORY        67 

fighting  with  Forrest,  and  I  was  almost  persuaded 
to  enlist  myself. 

My  story  satisfied  the  guard  and  I  was  passed. 
A  little  farther  on  I  obtained  permission  to  pas- 
ture my  horse  with  a  herd  of  animals  belonging 
to  the  Confederates  and,  afoot,  I  proceeded  to 
the  camp  of  the  soldiers.  By  acting  the  part  of 
the  rural  Tennesseean,  making  little  purchases 
from  the  negro  food-stands,  and  staring  open- 
mouthed  at  all  the  camp  life,  I  picked  up  a  great 
deal  of  information  without  once  falling  under 
suspicion. 

The  question  now  uppermost  in  my  mind  was 
how  I  was  going  to  get  away.  Toward  evening 
I  returned  to  the  pasture,  saddled  my  mare  and 
rode  to  the  picket  line  where  I  had  entered.  Here, 
to  my  dismay,  I  discovered  that  the  outposts  had 
been  recently  changed. 

But  I  used  the  same  story  that  had  gained  ad- 
mission for  me.  In  a  sack  tied  to  my  saddle  were 
the  food  supplies  I  had  bought  from  the  negroes 
during  the  day.  These,  I  explained  to  the  out- 
posts, were  intended  as  presents  for  my  mother 
and  sisters  back  on  the  farm.  They  examined 
the  sack,  and,  finding  nothing  contraband  in  it, 
allowed  me  to  pass. 

I  now  made  all  possible  speed  northward,  keep- 
ing out  of  sight  of  houses  and  of  strangers.  On 
the  second  day  I  passed  several  detachments  of 
Forrest's  troops,  but  my  training  as  a  scout  en- 
abled me  to  keep  them  from  seeing  me. 

Though  my  mare  had  proven  herself  an  animal 


68        BUFFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STORY 

of  splendid  endurance,  I  had  to  stop  and  rest 
her  occasionally.  At  such  times  I  kept  closely 
hidden.  It  was  on  the  second  morning  after 
leaving  Forrest's  command  that  I  sighted  the 
advance  guard  of  Smith's  army.  They  halted 
me  when  I  rode  up,  and  for  a  time  I  had  more 
trouble  with  them  than  I  had  had  with  any  of 
Forrest's  men.  I  was  not  alarmed,  however,  and 
when  the  captain  told  me  that  he  would  have  to 
send  me  to  the  rear,  I  surprised  him  by  asking 
to  see  General  Smith. 

**Are  you  anxious  to  see  a  big,  fighting  gen- 
eral?" he  asked  in  amazement. 

*^Yes,"  I  said.  ^*I  hear  that  General  Smith 
can  whip  Forrest,  and  I  would  like  to  see  any 
man  who  can  do  that." 

Without  any  promises  I  was  sent  to  the  rear, 
and  presently  I  noticed  General  Smith,  who,  how- 
ever, failed  to  recognize  me. 

I  managed,  however,  to  draw  near  to  him  and 
ask  him  if  I  might  speak  to  him  for  a  moment. 

Believing  me  to  be  a  Confederate  prisoner,  he 
assented,  and  when  I  had  saluted  I  said: 

**  General,  I  am  Billy  Cody,  the  man  you  sent 
out  to  the  Confederate  lines." 

** Report  back  to  your  charge,"  said  the  general 
to  the  officer  who  had  me  in  custody.  **I  will 
take  care  of  this  man." 

My  commander  was  much  pleased  with  my  re- 
port, which  proved  to  be  extremely  accurate  and 
valuable.  The  disguise  he  had  failed  to  penetrate 
did  not  deceive  my  comrades  of  the  Ninth  Kan- 


BUFFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STORY        69 

sas,  and  when  I  passed  them  they  all  called  me 
by  name  and  asked  me  where  I  had  been.  But 
my  news  was  for  my  superior  officers,  and  I  did 
not  need  the  warning  Colonel  Herrick  gave  me 
to  keep  my  mouth  shut  while  among  the  soldiers. 

General  Smith,  to  whom  I  later  made  a  full 
detailed  report,  had  spoken  highly  of  my  work 
to  Colonel  Herrick,  who  was  gratified  to  know 
that  his  choice  of  a  scout  had  been  justified  by 
results. 

It  was  not  long  before  the  whole  command  knew 
of  my  return,  but  beyond  the  fact  that  I  had 
been  on  a  scouting  expedition,  and  had  brought 
back  information  much  desired  by  the  commander, 
they  knew  nothing  of  my  journey.  The  next  morn- 
ing, still  riding  the  same  mare  and  still  wearing 
my  Tennessee  clothes,  I  rode  out  with  the  entire 
command  in  the  direction  of  Forrest's  army. 

Before  I  had  traveled  five  miles  I  had  been 
pointed  out  to  the  entire  command,  and  cheers 
greeted  me  on  every  side.  As  soon  as  an  oppor- 
tunity offered  I  got  word  with  the  general  and 
asked  if  he  had  any  further  special  orders  for  me. 

**  Just  keep  around,''  he  said;  **I  may  need  you 
later  on." 

**But  I  am  a  scout,"  I  told  him,  *'and  the  place 
for  a  scout  is  ahead  of  the  army,  getting  informa- 
tion." 

**Go  ahead,"  he  replied,  '*and  if  you  see  any- 
thing that  I  ought  to  know  about  come  back  and 
teU  me." 

Delighted  to  be  a  scout  once  more,  I  made  my 


70        BUFFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STORY 

way  forward.  The  general  had  given  orders  that 
I  was  to  be  allowed  to  pass  in  and  out  the  lines 
at  will,  so  that  I  was  no  longer  hampered  by  the 
activities  of  my  own  friends.  I  had  hardly  got 
beyond  the  sound  of  the  troops  when  I  saw  a 
beautiful  plantation  house,  on  the  porch  of  which 
was  a  handsome  old  lady  and  her  two  attractive 
daughters. 

They  were  greatly  alarmed  when  I  came  up, 
and  asked  if  I  didn't  know  that  the  Yankee  army 
would  be  along  in  a  few  minutes  and  that  my  life 
was  in  peril.  All  their  own  men  folks,  they  said, 
were  in  hiding  in  the  timber. 

** Don't  you  sit  here,"  begged  the  old  lady,  when 
I  had  seated  myself  on  the  porch  to  sip  a  glass 
of  milk  for  which  I  had  asked  her.  *  *  The  Yankee 
troops  will  go  right  through  this  house.  They 
will  break  up  the  piano  and  every  stick  of  furni- 
ture, and  leave  the  place  in  ruins.  You  are  sure 
to  be  killed  or  taken  prisoner. ' ' 

By  this  time  the  advance  guard  was  coming  up 
the  road.  General  Smith  passed  as  I  was  stand- 
ing on  the  porch.  I  saw  that  he  had  noticed  me, 
though  he  gave  no  sign  of  having  done  so.  As 
more  troops  passed,  men  began  leaving  their  com- 
panies and  rushing  toward  the  house.  I  walked 
out  and  ordered  them  away  in  the  name  of  the 
general.  They  all  knew  who  I  was,  and  obeyed, 
much  to  the  astonishment  of  the  old  lady  and 
her  daughter. 

Turning  to  my  hostess,  I  said : 

** Madam,  I  can't  keep  them  out  of  your  chicken- 


BUFFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STORY        71 

house  or  your  smoke-house  or  your  storerooms, 
but  I  can  keep  them  out  of  your  home,  and  I  will.'* 
I  remained  on  the  porch  till  the  entire  command 
had  passed.  Nothing  was  molested.  Much 
pleased,  but  still  puzzled,  the  old  lady  was  now 
convinced  that  I  was  no  Tennessee  lad,  but  a 
sure-enough  Yankee,  and  one  with  a  remarkable 
amount  of  influence.  When  I  asked  for  a  little 
something  to  eat  in  return  for  what  I  had  done, 
the  best  there  was  in  the  house  was  spread  be- 
fore me. 

My  hostess  urged  me  to  eat  as  speedily  as 
possible,  and  be  on  my  way.  Her  men  folks, 
she  said,  would  soon  return  from  the  timber,  and 
if  they  learned  that  I  was  a  Yank  would  shoot 
me  on  the  spot.  As  she  was  speaking  the  back 
door  was  pushed  open  and  three  men  rushed  in. 
The  old  lady  leaped  between  them  and  me. 

** Don't  shoot  him!"  she  cried.  **He  has  pro- 
tected our  property  and  our  lives. ' '  But  the  men 
had  no  murderous  intentions. 

**Give  him  all  he  wants  to  eat,"  said  the  eldest, 
**and  we  will  see  that  he  gets  back  to  the  Yankee 
lines  in  safety.  We  saw  him  from  the  treetops 
turn  away  the  Yanks  as  he  stood  on  the  porch." 

While  I  finished  my  meal  they  put  all  manner 
of  questions  to  me,  being  specially  impressed  that 
a  boy  so  young  could  have  kept  a  great  army  from 
foraging  so  richly  stocked  a  plantation.  I  told 
them  that  I  was  a  Union  scout,  and  that  I  had 
saved  their  property  on  my  own  responsibility. 

*  *  I  knew  you  would  be  back  here, ' '  I  said.    *  *  But 


72        BUFFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STORY 

I  was  sure  you  wouldn't  shoot  me  when  you 
learned  what  I  had  done." 

**You  bet  your  life  we  won't!"  they  said 
heartily. 

After  dinner  I  was  stocked  up  with  all  the  pro- 
visions I  wanted,  and  given  a  fine  bottle  of  peach 
brandy,  the  product  of  the  plantation.  Then  the 
men  of  the  place  escorted  me  to  the  rear-guard 
of  the  command,  which  I  lost  no  time  in  joining. 
"When  I  overtook  the  general  and  presented  hirn 
with  the  peach  brandy,  he  said  gruffly; 

**I  hear  you  kept  all  the  men  from  foraging 
on  that  plantation  back  yonder." 

**Yes,  sir,"  I  said.  **An  old  lady  and  her  two 
daughters  were  alone  there.  My  mother  had  suf- 
fered from  raids  of  hostile  soldiers  in  Kansas. 
I  tried  to  protect  that  old  lady,  as  I  would  have 
liked  another  man  to  protect  my  mother  in  her 
distress.  I  am  sorry  if  I  have  disobeyed  your 
orders  and  I  am  ready  for  any  punishment  you 
wish  to  inflict  on  me." 

**My  boy,"  said  the  general,  **you  may  be  too 
good-hearted  for  a  soldier,  but  you  have  done 
just  what  I  would  have  done.  My  orders  were 
to  destroy  all  Southern  property.  But  we  will 
forget  your  violation  of  them." 

General  Smith  kept  straight  on  toward  For- 
rest's stronghold.  Ten  miles  from  the  spot  where 
the  enemy  was  encamped,  he  wheeled  to  the  left 
and  headed  for  Tupedo,  Mississippi,  reaching 
there  at  dark.  Forrest  speedily  discovered  that 
Smith  did  not  intend  to  attack  him  on  his  own 


BUFFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STOKY        73 

ground.  So  he  broke  camp,  and,  coming  up  to 
the  rear,  continued  a  hot  fire  through  the  next 
afternoon. 

Arriving  near  Tupedo,  General  Smith  selected^ 
as  a  battleground,  the  crest  of  a  ridge  command- 
ing the  position  Forrest  had  taken  up.  Between 
the  two  armies  lay  a  plantation  of  four  or  five 
thousand  acres.  The  next  morning  Forrest  dis- 
mounted some  four  thousand  cavalry,  and  with 
cavalry  and  artillery  on  his  left  and  right  ad- 
vanced upon  our  position. 

Straight  across  the  plantation  they  came,  while 
Smith  rode  back  and  forth  behind  the  long  breast- 
works that  protected  his  men,  cautioning  them  to 
reserve  their  fire  till  it  could  be  made  to  tell.  All 
our  men  were  fighting  with  single  shotguns.  The 
first  shot,  in  a  close  action,  had  to  count,  or  a 
second  one  might  never  be  fired. 

I  had  been  detailed  to  follow  Smith  as  he  rode 
to  and  fro.  With  an  eye  to  coming  out  of  the 
battle  with  a  whole  skin  I  had  picked  out  a  number 
of  trees,  behind  which  I  proposed  to  drop  my  horse 
when  the  fighting  got  to  close  quarters.  This 
was  the  fashion  I  had  always  employed  in  Indian 
fighting.  As  the  Confederates  got  within  good 
range,  the  order  **Fire!''  rang  out. 

At  that  instant  I  wheeled  my  horse  behind  a 
big  oak  tree.  Unhappily  for  me  the  general  was 
looking  directly  at  me  as  this  maneuver  was  ex- 
ecuted. When  we  had  driven  back  and  defeated 
Forrest's  men  I  was  ordered  to  report  at  General 
Smith's  tent. 


74        BUFFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STOEY 

** Young  man,"  said  the  General,  when  I  stood 
before  him,  **you  were  recommended  to  me  as 
an  Indian  fighter.  What  were  you  doing  behind 
that  tree  r' 

**That  is  the  way  we  have  to  fight  Indians,  sir,*' 
I  said.  ^'We  get  behind  anything  that  offers  pro- 
tection." It  was  twelve  years  later  that  I  con- 
vinced General  Smith  that  my  theory  of  Indian 
fighting  was  pretty  correct. 

After  the  consolidation  of  the  regular  army, 
following  the  war,  Smith  was  sent  to  the  Plains 
as  Colonel  of  the  Seventh  Cavalry.  This  was 
afterward  known  as  Custer's  regiment,  and  we 
engaged  in  the  battle  of  the  Little  Big  Horn,  in 
which  that  gallant  commander  was  slain.  Smith's 
cavalry  command  was  moving  southward  on  an 
expedition  against  the  Kiowas  and  Comanches  in 
the  Canadian  Kiver  country,  when  I  joined  it  as 
a  scout. 

Dick  Curtis,  acting  as  guide  for  Smith,  had 
been  sent  on  ahead  across  the  river,  while  the 
main  command  stopped  to  water  their  horses. 
Curtis 's  orders  were  to  proceed  straight  ahead 
for  five  miles,  where  the  troops  would  camp.  He 
was  followed  immediately  by  the  advance  guard, 
Smith  and  his  staff  following  on.  We  had  pro- 
ceeded about  three  miles  when  three  or  four  hun- 
dred Indians  attacked  us,  jumping  out  of  gullies 
and  ravines,  where  they  had  been  securely  hidden. 
General  Smith  at  once  ordered  the  orderlies  to 
sound  the  recall  and  retreat,  intending  to  fall 
back  quickly  on  the  main  command. 


BUFFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STORY        75 

He  was  standing  close  beside  a  deep  ravine  as 
he  gave  the  order.  Knowing  that  the  plan  he  pro- 
posed meant  the  complete  annihilation  of  our 
force,  I  pushed  my  horse  close  to  him. 

** General/'  I  said,  ** order  your  men  into  the 
ravine,  dismount,  and  let  number  fours  hold 
horses.  Then  you  will  be  able  to  stand  off  the 
Indians.  If  you  try  to  retreat  to  the  main  com- 
mand you  and  every  man  under  you  will  be  killed 
before  you  have  retreated  a  mile." 

He  immediately  saw  the  sense  of  my  advice. 
Issuing  orders  to  enter  the  ravine,  he  dismounted 
with  his  men  behind  the  bank.  There  we  stood 
off  the  Indians  till  the  soldiers  in  the  rear,  hearing 
the  shots,  came  charging  to  the  rescue  and  drove 
the  Indians  away.  The  rapidity  with  which  we 
got  into  the  ravine,  and  the  protection  its  banks 
afforded  us,  enabled  us  to  get  away  without  losing 
a  man.  Had  the  general's  original  plan  been 
carried  out  none  of  us  would  have  come  away 
to  tell  the  story.  I  was  summoned  to  the  general's 
•tent  that  evening. 

**That  was  a  brilliant  suggestion  of  yours, 
young  man,"  he  said.  **This  Indian  fighting  is 
a  new  business  to  me.  I  realize  that  if  I  had 
carried  out  my  first  order  not  a  man  of  us  would 
ever  have  reached  the  command  alive." 

I  said:  ** General,  do  you  remember  the  battle 
of  Tupedo?" 

**I  do,"  he  said,  with  his  chest  expanding  a 
little.  **I  was  in  command  at  that  battle."  The 
whipping  of  Forrest  had  been  a  particularly  diffi- 


76        BUFFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STORY 

cult  and  unusual  feat,  and  General  Smith  never 
failed  to  show  his  pride  in  the  achievement  when- 
ever the  battle  of  Tupedo  was  mentioned. 

**Do  you  remember,''  I  continued,  **the  young 
fellow  you  caught  behind  a  tree,  and  sent  for  him 
afterward  to  ask  him  why  he  did  so?" 

**Is  it  possible  you  are  the  man  who  found 
Forrest 's  command  ? "  he  asked  in  amazement.  ^  *  I 
had  often  wondered  what  became  of  you,"  he 
said,  when  I  told  him  I  was  the  same  man.  *  *  What 
have  you  been  doing  since  the  war!" 

I  told  him  I  had  come  West  as  a  scout  for 
General  Sherman  in  1865  and  had  been  scouting 
ever  since.  He  was  highly  delighted  to  see  me 
again,  and  from  that  time  forward,  as  long  as 
he  remained  on  the  Plains,  I  resumed  my  old 
position  as  his  chief  scout. 

After  the  battle  of  Tupedo,  Smith's  command 
was  ordered  to  Memphis,  and  from  there  sent  by 
boat  up  the  Mississippi.  We  of  the  cavalry  dis- 
embarked at  Cape  Jardo,  Smith  remaining  behind 
with  the  infantry,  which  came  on  later.  General 
Sterling  Price,  of  the  Confederate  army,  was  at 
this  time  coming  out  of  Arkansas  into  southern 
Missouri  with  a  large  army.  His  purpose  was  to 
invade  Kansas. 

Federal  troops  were  not  then  plentiful  in  the 
West.  Smith's  army  from  Tennessee,  Blunt 's 
troops  from  Kansas,  what  few  regulars  there 
were  in  Missouri,  and  some  detachments  of  Kan- 
sas volunteers  were  all  being  moved  forward  to 
head  off  Price.    Being  still  a  member  of  the  Ninth 


BUFFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STORY       77 

Kansas  Cavalry,  I  now  found  myself  back  in  my 
old  country — just  ahead  of  Price's  army,  which 
had  now  reached  the  fertile  northwestern  Mis- 
souri. 

In  carrying  dispatches  from  General  McNeil 
to  General  Blunt  or  General  Pleasanton  I  passed 
around  and  through  Price 's  army  many  times.  I 
always  wore  the  disguise  of  a  Confederate  soldier, 
and  always  escaped  detection.  Price  fought  hard 
and  successfully,  gaining  ground  steadily,  till 
at  Westport,  Missouri,  and  other  battlefields  near 
the  Kansas  line,  the  Federal  troops  checked  his 
advance. 

At  the  Little  Blue,  a  stream  that  runs  through 
what  is  now  Kansas  City,  he  was  finally  turned 
south,  and  took  up  a  course  through  southern 
Kansas. 

Near  Mound  City  a  scouting  party  of  which  I 
was  a  member  surprised  a  small  detachment  of 
Price's  army.  Our  advantage  was  such  that  they 
surrendered,  and  while  we  were  rounding  them 
up  I  heard  one  of  them  say  that  we  Yanks  had 
captured  a  bigger  prize  than  we  suspected.  When 
he  was  asked  what  this  prize  consisted  of,  the 
soldier  said: 

**That  big  man  over  yonder  is  General  Mar- 
maduke  of  the  Southern  army." 

I  had  heard  much  of  Marmaduke  and  greatly 
admired  his  dash  and  ability  as  a  fighting  man. 
Going  over  to  him,  I  asked  if  there  was  anything 
I  could  do  to  make  him  comfortable.  He  said 
that  I  could.    He  hadn't  had  a  bite  to  eat,  and 


78        BUFFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STORY 

he  wanted  some  food  and  wanted  it  right 
away. 

He  was  surrounding  a  good  lunch  I  had  in  my 
saddle-bag,  while  I  was  ransacking  the  saddle-bag 
of  a  comrade  for  a  bottle  of  whisky  which  I  knew 
to  be  there. 

When  we  turned  our  prisoners  over  to  the  main 
command  I  was  put  in  charge  of  General  Mar- 
maduke  and  accompanied  him  as  his  custodian  to 
Fort  Leavenworth.  The  general  and  I  became 
fast  friends,  and  our  friendship  lasted  long  after 
the  war.  Years  after  he  had  finished  his  term 
as  Governor  of  Missouri  he  visited  me  in  London, 
where  I  was  giving  my  Wild  West  Show.  He 
was  talking  with  me  in  my  tent  one  day  when 
the  Earl  of  Lonsdale  and  Lord  Harrington  rode, 
up,  dismounted,  and  came  over  to  where  we  were 
sitting. 

I  presented  Marmaduke  to  them  as  the  gov- 
ernor of  one  of  America's  greatest  States  and  a 
famous  Confederate  general.  Lonsdale,  approach- 
ing and  extending  his  hand,  smiled  and  said : 

*'Ah,  Colonel  Cody,  another  one  of  your  Yankee 
friends,  eh?" 

Marmaduke,  who  had  risen,  scowled.  But  he 
held  out  his  hand.  **Look  here,"  he  said,  **I  am 
much  pleased  to  meet  you,  sir,  but  I  want  you 
first  to  understand  distinctly  that  I  am  no  Yank." 

When  I  left  General  Marmaduke  at  Leaven- 
worth and  returned  to  my  command.  Price  was 
already  in  retreat.  After  driving  him  across  the 
Arkansas  River  I  returned  with  my  troop  to 


BUFFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STOKY       79 

Springfield,  Missouri.  From  there  I  went,  under 
General  McNeil,  to  Fort  Smith  and  other  places 
on  the  Arkansas  border,  where  he  had  several 
lively  skirmishes,  and  one  big  and  serious  en- 
gagement before  the  war  was  ended. 

The  spring  of  1865  found  us  again  in  Spring- 
field, where  we  remained  about  two  months,  re- 
cuperating and  replenishing  our  stock.  I  now  got 
a  furlough  of  thirty  days  and  went  to  St.  Louis, 
where  I  invested  part  of  a  thousand  dollars  I 
had  saved  in  fashionable  clothes  and  in  rooms  at 
one  of  the  best  hotels.  It  was  while  there  that 
I  met  a  young  lady  of  a  Southern  family,  to  whom 
I  paid  a  great  deal  of  attention,  and  from  whom 
I  finally  extracted  a  promise  that  if  I  would  come 
back  to  St.  Louis  at  the  end  of  the  war  she  would 
marry  me. 

On  my  return  to  Springfield  I  found  an  expedi- 
tion in  process  of  fitting  out  for  a  scouting  trip 
through  New  Mexico  and  into  the  Arkansas  River 
country,  to  look  after  the  Indians.  With  this  party 
I  took  part  in  a  number  of  Indian  fights  and 
helped  to  save  a  number  of  immigrant  trains 
from  destruction:  On  our  return  to  Fort  Leaven- 
worth we  found  General  Sanborn  and  a  number 
of  others  of  the  former  Union  leaders  who  had 
come  to  the  border  to  make  peace  with  the  Indians. 

The  various  tribes  that  roamed  the  Plains  had 
heard  of  the  great  war,  and,  believing  that  it 
had  so  exhausted  the  white  man  that  he  would 
fall  an  easy  prey  to  Indian  aggression,  had  be- 
gun to  arm  themselves  and  make  ready  for  great 


80        BUFFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STORY 

conquests.  They  had  obtained  great  stores  of 
arms  and  ammunition.  During  the  last  two  years 
of  the  war  they  had  been  making  repeated  raids 
and  inflicting  vast  damage  on  the  settlers. 

At  the  close  of  the  war,  when  the  volunteers 
were  discharged,  I  was  left  free  to  return  to  my 
old  calling.  The  regular  army  was  in  course  of 
consolidation.  Men  who  had  been  generals  were 
compelled  to  serve  as  colonels  and  majors.  The 
consolidated  army's  chief  business  was  in  the 
West,  where  the  Indians  formed  a  real  menace, 
and  to  the  West  came  the  famous  fighting  men 
under  whose  command  I  was  destined  to  spend 
many  of  the  eventful  years  to  come. 


CHAPTER  in 

At  the  close  of  the  war,  General  William  Tecum- 
seh  Sherman  was  placed  at  the  head  of  the  Peace 
Commission  which  had  been  sent  to  the  border 
to  take  counsel  with  the  Indians.  It  had  become 
necessary  to  put  an  end  to  the  hostility  of  the  red 
man  immediately  either  by  treaty  or  by  force. 
His  raids  on  the  settlers  could  be  endured  no 
longer. 

The  purpose  of  the  party  which  Sherman  headed 
was  to  confer  with  the  greatest  of  the  hostile 
chiefs.  Treaties  were  to  be  agreed  upon  if  pos- 
sible. If  negotiations  for  peace  failed,  the  council 
would  at  least  act  as  a  stay  of  hostilities.  The 
army  was  rapidly  reorganizing,  and  it  would  soon 
be  possible  to  mobilize  enough  troops  to  put  down 
the  Indians  in  case  they  refused  to  come  to  terms 
peaceably. 

The  camp  of  the  Kiowas  and  Comanches — the 
first  Indians  with  whom  Sherman  meant  to  deal 
— ^was  about  three  hundred  miles  southwest  of 
Leavenworth,  in  the  great  buffalo  range,  and  in 
the  midst  of  the  trackless  Plains. 

By  ambulance  and  on  horseback,  with  wagons 
to  carry  the  supplies,  the  party  set  out  for  its  first 
objective — Council  Springs  on  the  Arkansas  River, 
about  sixty  miles  beyond  old  Fort  Zarrah. 

I  was  chosen  as  one  of  the  scouts  or  dispatch 

81 


82        BUFFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STORY 

carriers  to  accompany  the  party.  The  guide  was 
Dick  Curtis,  a  plainsman  of  wide  experience 
among  the  Indians. 

"When  we  arrived  at  Fort  Zarrah  we  found 
that  no  road  lay  beyond,  and  learned  that  there 
was  no  water  on  the  way.  It  was  determined, 
therefore,  to  make  a  start  at  two  o'clock  in  the 
morning.  Curtis  said  this  would  enable  us  to 
reach  our  destination,  sixty-five  miles  further  on, 
by  two  o'clock  the  next  afternoon. 

The  outfit  consisted  of  two  ambulances  and  one 
Government  wagon,  which  carried  the  tents  and 
supplies.  Each  officer  had  a  horse  to  ride  if  he 
chose.  If  he  preferred  to  ride  in  the  ambulance 
his  orderly  was  on  hand  to  lead  his  horse  for  him. 

We  traveled  steadily  till  ten  o  'clock  in  the  morn- 
ing, through  herds  of  buffalo  whose  numbers  were 
past  counting.  I  remember  that  General  Sherman 
estimated  that  the  number  of  buffalo  on  the  Plains 
at  that  time  must  have  been  more  than  eleven 
million.  It  required  all  the  energy  of  the  soldiers 
and  scouts  to  keep  a  road  cleared  through  the 
herds  so  that  the  ambulance  might  pass. 

We  breakfasted  during  the  morning  stop  and 
rested  the  horses.  For  the  men  there  was  plenty 
of  water,  which  we  had  brought  along  in  canteens 
and  camp  kettles.  There  was  also  a  little  for  the 
animals,  enough  to  keep  them  from  suffering  on 
the  way. 

Two  o'clock  found  us  still  making  our  way 
through  the  buffalo  herds,  but  with  no  Council 
Springs  in  sight.    Curtis  was  on  ahead,  and  one 


BUFFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STOBY       83 

of  the  lieutenants,  feeling  a  little  nervous,  rode 
up  to  another  of  the  scouts. 

**How  far  are  we  from  the  Springs?"  he  in- 
quired. 

*'I  don't  know,"  said  the  guide  uneasily.  *'I 
never  was  over  here  before,  but  if  any  one  knows 
where  the  Springs  are  that  young  fellow  over 
there  does."    He  pointed  to  me. 

''When  will  we  get  to  the  Springs!"  asked  the 
officer,  turning  in  my  direction. 

''Never — if  we  keep  on  going  the  way  we  are 
now,"  I  said. 

"Why  don't  you  tell  the  General  that?"  he  de- 
manded. 

I  said  that  Curtis  was  the  guide,  not  I;  where- 
upon he  dropped  back  alongside  the  ambulance 
in  which  Sherman  was  riding  and  reported  what 
had  happened. 

The  General  instantly  called  a  halt  and  sent 
for  the  scouts.  When  all  of  us,  including  Curtis, 
had  gathered  round  him  he  got  out  of  the  ambu- 
lance, and,  pulling  out  a  map,  directed  Curtis  to 
locate  the  Springs  on  it. 

"There  has  never  been  a  survey  made  of  this 
country,  General,"  said  Curtis.  "None  of  these 
maps  are  correct." 

"I  know  that  myself,"  said  Sherman.  "How 
far  are  we  from  the  Springs  ? ' ' 

The  guide  hesitated.  "I  have  never  been  there 
but  once,"  he  said,  "and  then  I  was  with  a  big 
party  of  Lidians  who  did  the  guiding."  He  added 
that  on  a  perfectly  flat  country,  dotted  with  buf- 


84        BUFFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STORY 

falo,  lie  could  not  positively  locate  our  destina- 
tion. Unless  we  were  sighted  and  guided  by  In- 
dians we  would  have  to  chance  it. 

Sherman  swung  round  on  the  rest  of  us.  *'Do 
any  of  you  know  where  the  Springs  are?''  he 
asked,  looking  directly  at  me. 

**Yes,  sir,"  I  said,  *^I  do." 

**How  do  you  know,  Billy?"  asked  Curtis. 

*^I  used  to  come  over  here  with  Charley  Rath, 
the  Indian  trader,"  I  said. 

** Where  are  we  now?"  asked  Sherman. 

** About  twelve  miles  from  the  Springs.  They 
are  due  south." 

*  *  Due  south !    And  we  are  traveling  due  west ! ' ' 

**Yes,  sir,"  I  replied,  '*but  if  Mr.  Curtis  had 
not  turned  in  a  few  minutes  I  was  going  to  tell 
you." 

So  for  twelve  miles  I  rode  with  Sherman,  and 
we  became  fast  friends.  He  asked  me  all  manner 
of  questions  on  the  way,  and  I  found  that  he  knew 
my  father  well,  and  remembered  his  tragic  death 
in  Salt  Creek  Valley.  He  asked  what  had  become 
of  the  rest  of  the  family  and  all  about  my  career. 
By  the  end  of  the  ride  I  had  told  him  my  life 
history. 

As  we  were  riding  along  together,  with  the  out- 
fit following  on,  I  noticed  pony  tracks  from  time 
to  time,  and  knew  that  we  were  nearing  the 
Springs.    Presently  I  said: 

**  General,  we  are  going  to  find  Indians  at  the 
Springs  when  we  reach  there." 

**How  do  you  know?'^ 


BUFFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STORY        85 

*'We  have  been  riding  where  ponies  have  been 
grazing  for  the  last  mile." 

*'I  haven't  seen  any  tracks,"  said  the  General 
in  surprise.    **Show  me  one." 

I  jumped  off  my  horse,  and,  thrusting  the  buffalo 
grass  aside,  I  pointed  out  many  tracks  of  bare- 
footed ponies.  **When  we  rise  that  ridge,"  I 
told  him,  **we  shall  see  the  village,  and  thousands 
of  ponies  and  Indian  lodges." 

In  a  very  few  minutes  this  prophecy  came  true. 
Curtis  and  the  other  scouts  with  the  officers  rode 
up  quickly  behind  us,  and  we  all  had  a  fine  view 
of  this  wonderful  sight  of  the  desert — a  great 
Indian  camp.  As  we  stood  gazing  at  the  spectacle 
we  observed  great  excitement  in  the  village.  War- 
riors by  the  dozens  were  leaping  on  their  horses 
and  riding  toward  us,  till  at  least  a  thousand  of 
them  were  in  the  ** receiving  line." 

**It  looks  to  me  as  if  we  had  better  fall  into 
position,"  said  Sherman. 

**It  is  not  necessary,"  I  said.  **They  have 
given  us  the  peace  sign.  They  are  coming  toward 
us  without  arms." 

So  Sherman,  with  General  Harney,  General 
Sanborn,  and  the  other  officers  rode  slowly  for- 
ward to  meet  the  oncoming  braves. 

**This  is  where  you  need  Curtis,"  I  told  the 
General  as  he  advanced.  **He  is  the  best  Kiowa 
and  Comanche  interpreter  on  the  Plains  and  he 
knows  every  one  of  these  Indians  personally." 

Curtis  was  accordingly  summoned  and  made  in- 
terpreter, while  I  was  assigned  to  remain  about 


86        BUFFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STORY 

tlie  commander's  tent  and  given  charge  of  the 
scouts. 

As  the  Indians  drew  near  with  signs  of  friend- 
liness, Curtis  introduced  the  chiefs,  Satanta,  Lone 
WoK,  Kicking  Bird,  and  others  to  General  Sher- 
man as  the  head  of  the  Peace  Commission. 

The  Indians,  having  been  notified  in  advance 
of  the  coming  of  the  Commission,  had  already 
selected  a  special  spring  for  our  camp  and  had 
prepared  a  great  feast  in  honor  of  the  meeting. 
To  this  feast,  which  was  spread  in  the  center  of 
the  village,  the  Commissioners  were  conducted, 
while  the  scouts  and  the  escort  went  into 
camp. 

The  Indians  had  erected  a  great  canopy  of 
tanned  buffalo  skins  on  tepee  poles.  Underneath 
were  robes  for  seats  for  the  General  and  his  staff, 
and  thither  they  were  led  with  great  ceremony. 
Near  by  was  a  great  fire  on  which  buffalo,  an- 
telope, and  other  animals  were  roasting.  Even 
coffee  and  sugar  had  been  provided,  and  the  feast 
was  served  with  tin  plates  for  the  meat  and  tin 
cups  for  the  coffee.  Another  tribute  to  the  cus- 
toms of  the  guests  was  a  complete  outfit  of  knives 
and  forks.  Napkins,  however,  appeared  to  be 
lacking. 

Indian  girls,  dressed  in  elaborate  costumes, 
served  the  repast,  the  elder  women  preparing  the 
food.  Looking  on,  it  seemed  to  me  to  be  the  most 
beautiful  sight  I  had  ever  seen — the  grim  old  gen- 
erals, who  for  the  last  four  and  a  half  years  had 
been  fighting  a  great  war  sitting  serenely  and 


CHIEF  SANTANTA    PASSED   THE    PEACE-PIPE   TO    GENERAL    SHERMAN    AND    SAIDi 
"my    great   white   BROTHERS'- 


BUFFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STORY        87 

contentedly  down  to  meat  and  drink  with  the 
chiefs  of  a  wild,  and,  till  lately,  a  hostile  race. 

After  all  had  eaten,  the  great  chief,  Satanta, 
loaded  the  big  peace-pipe,  whose  bowl  was  hewn 
from  red  stone,  with  a  beautifully  carved  stem 
eighteen  inches  long.  The  pipe  was  passed  from 
mouth  to  mouth  around  the  circle.  After  the 
smoke  was  ended  Satanta  raised  his  towering 
bulk  above  the  banqueters.  He  drew  his  red 
blanket  around  his  broad  shoulders,  leaving  his 
naked  right  arm  free,  for  without  his  right  arm 
an  Indian  is  deprived  of  his  real  powers  of  ora- 
tory. Making  signs  to  illustrate  his  every  sen- 
tence, he  spoke: 

**My  great  white  brothers,  I  welcome  you  to 
my  camp  and  to  my  people.  You  can  rest  in 
safety,  without  a  thought  of  fear,  because  our 
hearts  are  now  good  to  you — ^because  we  hope 
that  the  words  you  are  going  to  speak  to  us  will 
make  us  glad  that  you  have  come.  We  know 
that  you  have  come  a  long  way  to  see  us.  We 
feel  that  you  are  going  to  give  us  or  send  us 
presents  which  will  gladden  the  hearts  of  all  my 
people. 

**I  know  that  you  must  be  very  tired,  and  as 
I  see  that  your  tents  are  pitched  it  would  make 
our  hearts  glad  to  walk  over  to  your  village  with 
you,  where  you  can  rest  and  sleep  well,  and  we 
hope  that  you  will  dream  of  the  many  good  things 
you  are  going  to  send  us  and  tell  us  when  you 
are  rested. 

**I  have  sent  to  your  tents  the  choicest  of  young 


88        BUFFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STORYi 

buffalo,  deer,  and  antelope,  and  if  there  is  any- 
thing else  in  my  camp  which  will  make  your  hearts 
glad  I  will  be  pleased  to  send  it  to  you.  If  any 
of  your  horses  should  stray  away,  my  young  men 
will  bring  them  back  to  you." 

As  the  old  chief  concluded.  General  Sherman, 
rising,  shook  his  hand  and  said: 

**My  red  brother,  your  beautiful  and  romantic 
reception  has  deeply  touched  the  hearts  of  my 
friends  and  myself.  We  most  heartily  thank  you 
for  it.  When  we  are  rested,  and  after  we  have 
slept  in  your  wild  prairie  city,  we  should  like  to 
hold  a  council  with  the  chiefs  and  warriors  con- 
gregated here." 

When  the  officers  returned  to  their  own  camp 
they  agreed  that  the  feast  was  very  grand,  that 
the  Indian  maidens  who  served  it  were  very  pretty 
in  their  gay  costumes  and  beautiful  moccasins. 
•Most  of  them,  however,  had  observed  that  the 
hands  of  the  squaws  who  did  the  cooking  looked 
as  if  they  had  not  touched  water  for  several 
months.  It  stuck  in  the  memory  of  some  of  the 
guests  that,  in  their  efforts  to  clean  the  tinware, 
the  squaws  had  left  more  soap  in  the  corners  than 
was  necessary.  The  coffee  had  a  strong  flavor  of 
soap. 

**If  we  are  going  to  have  a  banquet  every  day," 
said  one  officer,  **I  think  I'll  do  my  eating  in  our 
own  camp." 

General  Sherman  reminded  him  that  this  would 
bie  highly  impolite  to  the  hosts,  and  ordered  them, 
as  soldiers,  to  make  the  best  of  the  entertainment 


BUFFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STORY        89 

and  to  line  up  for  mess  when  the  Lidians  made 
a  feast. 

At  ten  0  'clock  the  next  morning  the  first  session 
of  the  great  council  was  held.  For  three  days 
the  white  chiefs  and  the  red  chiefs  sat  in  a  circle 
under  the  canopy,  and  many  promises  of  friend- 
ship were  made  by  the  Lidians.  When  the  council 
was  concluded,  General  Sherman  sent  for  me. 

** Billy,"  he  said,  **I  want  you  to  send  two  good 
men  to  Fort  Ellsworth  with  dispatches,  where 
they  can  be  forwarded  to  Fort  Riley,  the  end  of 
the  telegraph  line.  After  your  men  are  rested 
they  can  return  to  Fort  Zarrah  and  join  us." 
When  the  two  men  were  instructed  by  the  General 
and  were  on  their  way,  he  took  me  into  his  tent. 

**I  want  to  go  to  Bent's  Fort  on  the  Arkansas 
Eiver,"  he  said,  **then  to  Fort  St.  Barine,  on 
the  Platte,  and  then  to  Laramie;  after  that  we 
will  go  to  Cottonwood  Springs,  then  to  Fort 
Kearney  and  then  to  Leavenworth.  Can  you 
guide  me  on  that  trip  ? ' ' 

I  told  him  that  I  could,  and  was  made  guide, 
chief  of  scouts,  and  master  of  transportation,  act- 
ing with  an  army  officer  as  quartermaster. 

At  Bent's  Fort  another  council  of  two  days 
was  held  with  the  Indians.  The  journey  home- 
ward was  made  without  difficulty.  At  Leaven- 
worth I  took  leave  of  one  of  the  noblest  and  kind- 
est-hearted men  I  have  ever  known.  In  bidding 
me  good-by,  General  Sherman  said: 

**I  don't  think  these  councils  we  have  held  will 
amount  to  much.    There  was  no  sincerity  in  the 


90        BUFFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STORY 

Indians'  promises.  I  will  see  that  the  promises 
we  made  to  them  are  carried  out  to  the  letter, 
but  when  the  grass  grows  in  the  spring  they  will 
be,  as  usual,  on  the  warpath.  As  soon  as  the 
regular  army  is  organized  it  will  have  to  be  sent 
out  here  on  the  border  to  quell  fresh  Indian  up- 
risings, because  these  Indians  will  give  us  no 
peace  till  they  are  thoroughly  thrashed." 

The  General  thanked  me  for  my  services,  and 
told  me  he  was  very  lucky  to  find  me.  *^It  is  not 
possible  that  I  will  be  with  the  troops  when  they 
come,"  he  said.  **They  will  be  commanded  by 
General  Philip  Sheridan.  You  will  like  Sheridan. 
He  is  your  kind  of  a  man.  I  will  tell  him  about 
you  when  I  see  him.  I  expect  to  hear  great  re- 
ports of  you  when  you  are  guiding  the  United 
States  army  over  the  Plains,  as  you  have  so  faith- 
fully guided  me.  The  quartermaster  has  instruc- 
tions to  pay  you  at  the  rate  of  $150  a  month,  and 
as  a  special  reward  I  have  ordered  that  you  be 
paid  $2000  extra.  Good-by!  I  know  you  will 
have  good  luck,  for  you  know  your  business." 

After  the  departure  of  General  Sherman  I  made 
a  brief  visit  to  my  sisters  in  Salt  Creek  Valley, 
and  for  a  time,  there  being  no  scouting  work 
to  do,  drove  stage  between  Plum  Creek  and  Fort 
Kearney. 

I  was  still  corresponding  with  Miss  Frederici, 
the  girl  I  had  left  behind  me  in  St.  Louis.  My 
future  seemed  now  secure,  so  I  decided  that  it 
was  high  time  I  married  and  settled  down,  if  a 
scout  can  ever  settle  down.    So,  surrendering  my 


BUFFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STOEY       91 

stage  job,  I  returned  to  Leavenworth  and  em- 
barked for  St.  Louis  by  boat.  After  a  week's 
visit  at  the  home  of  my  fiancee  we  were  quietly 
married  at  her  home.  I  made,  I  suppose,  rather 
a  wild-looking  groom.  My  brown  hair  hung  down 
over  my  shoulders,  and  I  had  just  started  a  little 
mustache  and  goatee.  I  was  dressed  in  the  West- 
em  fashion,  and  my  appearance  was,  to  say  the 
least,  unusual.  We  were  married  at  eleven  o  'clock 
in  the  morning,  and  took  the  steamer  Morning 
Star  at  two  in  the  afternoon  for  our  honeymoon 
journey  home. 

As  we  left  our  carriages  and  entered  the 
steamer,  my  wife 's  father  and  mother  and  a  num- 
ber of  friends  accompanying  us,  I  noticed  that 
I  was  attracting  considerable  excited  attention. 
A  number  of  people,  men  and  women,  were  on 
the  deck.    As  we  passed  I  heard  them  whispering : 

** There  he  is!  That's  him!  I'd  know  him  in 
the  dark!" 

It  was  very  plain  to  me  that  these  observations, 
were  not  particularly  friendly.  The  glares  cast 
at  me  were  openly  hostile.  While  we  were  dis- 
posing our  baggage  in  our  stateroom — I  had  hired 
the  bridal  chamber — I  heard  some  of  my  wife's 
friends  asking  her  father  if  he  knew  who  I  was, 
and  whether  I  had  any  credentials.  He  replied 
that  he  had  left  the  matter  of  credentials  to  his 
daughter. 

**Well,"  said  one  of  the  party,  ''these  people 
on  board  are  excursionists  from  Independence, 
and  they  say  this  son-in-law  of  yours  is  the  most 


92        BUFFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STORY 

desperate  outlaw,  bandit,  and  house-burner  on  the 
frontier!" 

The  old  gentleman  was  considerably  disturbed 
at  this  report.  He  made  up  his  mind  to  get  a 
little  first-hand  information,  and  he  took  the  most 
direct  means  of  getting  it. 

**Who  are  you?''  he  asked,  walking  over  to  me. 
**The  people  on  board  don't  give  you  a  very  good 
recommendation. ' ' 

'* Kindly  remember,"  I  replied,  'Hhat  we  have 
had  a  little  war  for  the  past  five  years  on  the 
border.  These  people  were  on  one  side  and  I 
on  the  other,  and  it  is  natural  that  they  shouldn't 
think  very  highly  of  me." 

My  argument  was  not  convincing.  **I  am  go- 
ing to  take  my  daughter  home  again,"  said  my 
father-in-law,  and  started  toward  the  stateroom. 

I  besought  him  to  leave  the  decision  to  her, 
and  for  the  next  ten  minutes  I  pleaded  my  case 
with  all  the  eloquence  I  could  command.  I  was 
talking  against  odds,  for  my  wife,  as  well  as  her 
parents '  friends,  were  all  ardent  Southerners,  and 
I  am  proud  to  say  that  after  fifty  years  of  mar- 
ried life,  she  is  still  as  strongly  **Secesh"  as  ever. 
But  when  I  put  the  case  to  her  she  said  gamely 
that  she  had  taken  me  for  better  or  for  worse 
and  intended  to  stick  to  me. 

She  was  in  tears  when  she  said  good-by  to  her 
parents  and  friends,  and  still  in  tears  after  they 
had  left.  I  tried  to  comfort  her  with  assurances 
that  when  we  came  among  Northern  people  I 
would  not  be  regarded  as  such  a  desperate  char- 


BUFFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STORY        93 

acter,  but  my  consolation  was  of  little  avail.  At 
dinner  the  hostile  stares  that  were  bent  on  me 
from  our  neighbors  at  table  did  not  serve  to  re- 
assure her.  It  was  some  comfort  to  me  afterward 
when  the  captain  sent  for  me  and  told  me  that  he 
knew  me,  that  my  Uncle  Elijah  was  his  old-time 
friend,  and  one  of  the  most  extensive  shippers 
on  the  steamboat  line.  *^It  is  shameful  the  way 
these  people  are  treating  you,"  he  said,  **but  let 
it  pass,  and  when  we  get  to  Independenca  every- 
thing will  be  all  right." 

But  everything  was  not  all  right.  In  the  eve- 
ning, when  I  led  my  wife  out  on  the  floor  of  the 
cabin,  where  the  passengers  were  dancing,  every 
dancer  immediately  walked  off  the  floor,  the  men 
scowling  and  the  women  with  their  noses  in  the 
air.  All  that  night  my  wife  wept  while  I  walked 
the  floor. 

At  daybreak,  when  we  stopped  for  wood,  I  heard 
shots  and  shoutiiig.  Walking  out  on  deck,  I  saw 
the  freed  negroes  who  composed  the  crew  scram- 
bling back  on  board.  The  steamboat  was  backing 
out  in  the  stream.  Later  I  learned  that  my  fellow 
passengers  had  wired  up  the  river  that  I  was 
on  board,  and  an  armed  party  had  ridden  down 
to  **get"  me. 

I  quickly  returned  to  the  stateroom,  and,  diving 
into  my  trunk,  took  out  and  buckled  on  a  brace 
of  revolvers  which  had  done  excellent  service  in 
times  past.  This  action  promptly  confirmed  my 
wife's  suspicions.  She  was  now  certain  that  I 
was  the  bandit  I  had  been  accused  of  being.    I 


94        BUFFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STORY 

had  no  time  to  reason  with  her  now.  Throwing 
my  coat  back,  so  that  I  rested  my  hands  on  the 
butts  of  my  revolvers,  I  strolled  out  through  the 
crowd. 

One  or  two  men  who  had  been  doing  a  great 
deal  of  loud  talking  a  few  minutes  past  backed 
away,  as  I  walked  past  and  looked  them  squarely 
in  the  eyes.  Nothing  more  was  said,  and  soon  I 
reached  the  steward's  office,  unmolested.  Here 
I  found  a  number  of  men  dressed  in  blue  uniforms. 
They  told  me  they  were  discharged  members  of 
the  Eighth  Indiana  Volunteers.  They  were  trav- 
eling to  Kansas,  steerage,  saving  their  money  so 
they  might  have  it  to  invest  in  homes  when  they 
reached  their  destination.  They  had  all  heard 
of  me,  and  now  proposed  to  arm  and  defend  me 
should  there  be  any  further  hostile  demonstra- 
tions. I  gladly  welcomed  their  support,  more 
for  my  wife's  sake  than  for  my  own. 

**My  wife,"  I  said,  ** firmly  believes  that  I  am 
an  outlaw." 

**You  can't  blame  her,"  said  the  spokesman 
of  the  party,  **  after  what  .has  happened.  But 
wait  till  she  gets  among  Union  people  and  she 
will  learn  her  mistake.  We  know  your  history, 
and  of  your  recent  services  to  General  Sherman. 
We  know  that  old  *Pap'  Sherman  wouldn't  have 
an  outlaw  in  his  service.  If  you  had  seen  some 
of  the  interviews  he  has  given  out  about  your 
wife's  father  and  his  friends  there  would  have 
been  trouble  at  the  start." 

My  new-found  friends  did  not  do  things  by 


BUFFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STOKY        95 

halves.  In  order  to  be  able  to  give  a  ball  in  the 
cabin  they  exchanged  their  steerage  tickets  for 
first-class  passage.  That  night  the  ball  was  given, 
with  my  wife  and  myself  as  the  guests  of  honor. 

The  Independence  crowd,  observing  the  prepa- 
rations for  the  ball,  demanded  that  the  captain 
stop  at  the  first  town  and  let  them  off.  They  saw 
that  the  tide  had  turned,  and  were  apprehensive 
of  reprisals.  The  captain  told  them  that  if  they 
should  behave  like  ladies  and  gentlemen  all  would 
be  well. 

That  night  they  stood  outside  looking  in  while 
my  wife,  now  quite  reassured,  was  introduced  to 
the  ladies  and  gentlemen  from  Indiana,  and  danced 
till  she  was  weary. 

We  looked  for  trouble  when  we  reached  Inde- 
pendence the  next  day.  There  was  a  bigger  crowd 
than  usual  on  the  levee,  but  when  it  was  seen 
that  my  Yankee  friends  had  their  Spencer  car- 
bines with  them  all  was  quiet.  As  we  pulled 
out  the  old  captain  caUed  me  outside. 

*  *Cody,  it  is  all  over  now, ' '  he  said.  *  *  But  don 't 
you  think  you  were  the  only  restless  man  on 
board.  When  I  backed  out  into  the  river  the 
other  night  I  had  to  leave  four  of  my  best  deck- 
hands either  dead  or  wounded  on  the  bank.  I 
will  never  forget  the  way  you  walked  out  through 
the  crowd  with  that  pair  of  guns  in  your  hand. 
I  have  heard  of  the  execution  these  weapons  can 
do  when  they  get  in  action.'' 

When  we  stopped  at  Kansas  City  I  telegraphed 
to  Leavenworth  that  we  were  coming.     As  the 


96'      BUFFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STOEY 

boat  approached  the  Leavenworth  levee  my  sol- 
dier friends  were  out  on  deck  in  their  dress  uni- 
forms, and  I  stood  on  the  deck,  my  bride  on  my 
arm.  Soon  we  heard  the  music  of  the  Fort  Leav- 
enworth band  and  the  town  band,  and  crowds  of 
citizens  were  on  the  wharf  as  the  boat  tied  up. 

The  commandant  of  the  fort,  D.  K.  Anthony, 
the  Mayor  of  Leavenworth,  my  sisters,  and  hun- 
dreds of  my  friends  came  rushing  aboard  the  boat 
to  greet  us.  That  night  we  were  given  a  big 
banquet  to  which  my  soldier  chums  and  their  wives 
were  invited.  My  wife  had  a  glorious  time.  After 
it  was  all  over,  she  put  her  arms  about  my  neck 
and  cried: 

*' Willy,  I  don't  believe  you  are  an  outlaw  at 
aU!" 

I  had  reluctantly  promised  my  wife  that  I 
would  abandon  the  Plains.  It  was  necessary  to 
make  a  living,  so  I  rented  a  hotel  in  Salt  Creek 
iValley,  the  same  hotel  my  mother  had  formerly 
conducted,  and  set  up  as  a  landlord. 

It  was  a  typical  frontier  hotel,  patronized  by 
people  going  to  and  from  the  Plains,  and  it  took 
considerable  tact  and  diplomacy  to  conduct  it 
successfully.  I  called  the  place  **The  Golden- 
Eule  House,"  and  tried  to  conduct  it  on  that 
principle.  I  seemed  to  have  the  qualifications 
necessary,  but  for  a  man  who  had  lived  my  kind 
of  life  it  proved  a  tame  employment.  I  found 
myself  sighing  once  more  for  the  freedom  of  the 
Plains.  Incidentally  I  felt  sure  I  could  make 
money  as  a  plainsman,  and,  now  that  I  had  a  wife 


BUFFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STORY        97 

to  support,  money  had  become  a  very  important 
consideration. 

I  sold  out  the  Golden-Rule  House  and  set  out 
alone  for  Saline,  Kansas,  which  was  then  at  the 
end  of  construction  of  the  Kansas  Pacific  Rail- 
way. On  my  way  I  stopped  at  Junction  City, 
were  I  again  met  my  old  friend,  Wild  Bill,  who 
was  scouting  for  the  Government,  with  headquar- 
ters at  Fort  Ellsworth,  afterward  called  Fort 
Harker.  He  told  me  more  scouts  were  needed 
at  the  Post,  and  I  accompanied  him  to  the  fort, 
where  I  had  no  dijBficulty  in  securing  employment. 

During  the  winter  of  1866-67  I  scouted  between 
Fort  Ellsworth  and  Fort  Fletcher.  I  was  at  Fort 
Fletcher  in  the  spring  of  1867  when  General  Cus- 
ter came  out  to  accompany  General  Hancock  on 
an  Lidian  expedition.  I  remained  here  till  the 
post  was  flooded  by  a  great  rise  of  Big  Creek, 
on  which  it  was  located.  The  water  overflowed 
the  fortifications,  rendering  the  place  unfit  for 
further  occupancy,  and  it  was  abandoned  by  the 
Government.  The  troops  were  removed  to  Fort 
Hays,  a  new  post,  located  farther  west,  on  the 
south  fork  of  Big  Creek.  It  was  while  I  was  at 
Fort  Hays  that  I  had  my  first  ride  with  the  dash- 
ing Custer.  He  had  come  up  from  Ellsworth  with 
an  escort  of  only  ten  men,  and  wanted  a  guide 
to  pilot  him  to  Fort  Lamed,  sixty-five  miles  dis- 
tant. 

When  Custer  learned  that  I  was  at  the  Post 
he  asked  that  I  be  assigned  to  duty  with  him.  I 
reported  to  him  at  daylight  the  next  day — none 


98        BUFFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STOEY 

too  early,  as  Custer,  with  his  staff  and  orderlies, 
was  already  in  the  saddle.  When  I  was  intro- 
duced to  Custer  he  glanced  disapprovingly  at  the 
mule  I  was  riding. 

*  ^  I  am  glad  to  meet  you,  Cody, ' '  he  said.  *  *  Gen- 
eral Sherman  has  told  me  about  you.  But  I  am 
in  a  hurry,  and  I  am  sorry  to  see  you  riding  that 
mule.'' 

** General,"  I  returned,  **that  is  one  of  the  best 
horses  at  the  fort." 

**It  isn't  a  horse  at  all,"  he  said,  **but  if  it's 
the  best  you've  got  we  shall  have  to  start." 

We  rode  side  by  side  as  we  left  the  fort.  My 
mule  had  a  fast  walk,  which  kept  the  general's 
horse  most  of  the  time  in  a  half-trot. 

His  animal  was  a  fine  Kentucky  thoroughbred, 
but  for  the  kind  of  work  at  hand  I  had  full  con- 
fidence in  my  mount.  Whenever  Custer  was  not 
looking  I  slyly  spurred  the  mule  ahead,  and  when 
he  would  start  forward  I  would  rein  him  in  and 
pat  him  by  way  of  restraint,  bidding  him  not  to 
be  too  fractious,  as  we  hadn't  yet  reached  the 
sandhills.  In  this  way  I  set  a  good  lively  pace — 
something  like  nine  miles  an  hour — all  morning. 

At  Smoky  Hill  Eiver  we  rested  our  animals. 
Then  the  general,  who  was  impatient  to  be  off, 
ordered  a  fresh  start.  I  told  him  we  had  still 
forty  miles  of  sandhills  to  cross,  and  advised  an 
easier  gait. 

**I  have  no  time  to  waste  on  the  road,"  he  said. 
**I  want  to  push  right  ahead." 

Push  right  ahead  we  did.    I  continued  quietly 


BUFFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STORY       99 

spurring  my  mule  and  then  counseling  the  brute 
to  take  it  easy.  Presently  I  noticed  that  the 
escort  was  stringing  out  far  behind,  as  their 
horses  became  winded  with  the  hard  pace  through 
the  sand.  Custer,  looking  back,  noticed  the  same 
thing. 

**I  think  we  are  setting  too  fast  a  pace  for 
them,  Cody,''  he  said,  but  when  I  replied  that 
I  thought  this  was  merely  the  usual  pace  for  my 
mule  and  that  I  supposed  he  was  in  a  hurry  he 
made  no  further  comment. 

Several  times  during  the  next  forty  miles  we 
had  to  stop  to  wait  for  the  escort  to  close  up. 
Their  horses,  sweating  and  panting,  had  reached 
almost  the  limit  of  their  endurance.  I  continued 
patting  my  animal  and  ordering  him  to  quiet 
down,  and  Custer  at  length  said: 

**You  seem  to  be  putting  it  over  me  a  little 
today." 

When  we  reached  a  high  ridge  overlooking 
Pawnee  Fork  we  again  waited  for  our  lagging 
escort.    As  we  waited  I  said: 

**If  you  want  to  send  a  dispatch  to  the  officer 
in  command  at  Fort  Lamed,  I  will  be  pleased  to 
take  it  down  for  you.  You  can  follow  this  ridge 
till  you  come  to  the  creek  and  then  follow  the 
valley  right  down  to  the  fort." 

Custer  swung  around  to  the  captain,  who  had 
just  ridden  up,  and  repeated  to  him  my  instruc- 
tions as  to  how  to  reach  the  fort.  ^*I  shall  ride 
ahead  with  Cody,"  he  added.  **Now,  Cody,  I  am 
ready  for  you  and  that  mouse-colored  mule." 


100      BUFFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STOBY 

The  pace  I  set  for  General  Custer  from  that 
time  forward  was  ''some  going."  When  we  rode 
up  to  the  quarters  of  Captain  Daingerfield  Parker, 
commandant  of  the  post,  General  Custer  dis- 
mounted, and  his  horse  was  led  off  to  the  stables 
by  an  orderly,  while  I  went  to  the  scouts'  quar- 
ters. I  was  personally  sure  that  my  mule  was 
well  cared  for,  and  he  was  fresh  as  a  daisy  the 
next  morning. 

After  an  early  breakfast  I  groomed  and  saddled 
my  mule,  and,  riding  down  to  the  general's  quar- 
ters, waited  for  him  to  appear.  I  saluted  as  he 
came  out,  and  said  that  if  he  had  any  further 
orders  I  was  ready  to  carry  them  out. 

**I  am  not  feeling  very  pleasant  this  morning, 
Cody,"  he  said.  *'My  horse  died  during  the 
night." 

I  said  I  was  very  sorry  his  animal  got  into  too 
fast  a  class  the  day  before. 

*'Well,"  he  replied,  ''hereafter  I  will  have  noth- 
ing to  say  against  a  mule.  We  will  meet  again 
on  the  Plains.  I  shall  try  to  have  you  detailed 
as  my  guide,  and  then  we  will  have  time  to  talk 
over  that  race." 

A  few  days  after  my  return  to  Fort  Hays  the 
Indians  made  a  raid  on  the  Kansas  Pacific  Eail- 
road,  killing  five  or  six  men  and  running  off  a 
hundred  or  more  horses  and  mules.  The  news 
was  brought  to  the  commanding  ofiQcer,  who  im- 
mediately ordered  Major  Arms,  of  the  Tenth  Cav- 
alry, to  go  in  pursuit  of  the  raiders.  The  Tenth 
Cavalry  was  a  negro  regiment.   Arms  took  a  com- 


BUFFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STORY      101 

pany,  with  one  mountain  howitzer,  and  I  was  sent 
along  as  scout. 

On  the  second  day  out  we  discovered  a  large 
party  of  Indians  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  Saline 
River,  and  about  a  mile  distant.  The  party  was 
charging  down  on  us  and  there  was  no  time  to 
lose.  Arms  placed  his  howitzer  on  a  little  knoll, 
limbered  it  up,  and  left  twenty  men  to  guard  it. 
Then,  with  the  rest  of  the  command,  he  crossed 
the  river  to  meet  the  redskins. 

Just  as  he  had  got  his  men  across  the  stream 
we  heard  a  terrific  shouting.  Looking  back  toward 
the  knoll  where  the  gun  had  been  left,  we  saw 
our  negro  gun-guard  flying  toward  us,  pursued 
by  more  than  a  hundred  Indians.  More 
Indians  were  dancing  about  the  gun,  although 
they  had  not  the  slightest  notion  what  to  do 
with  it. 

Arms  turned  back  with  his  command  and  drove 
the  redskins  from  their  useless  prize.  The  men 
dismounted  and  took  up  a  position  there. 

A  very  lively  fight  followed.  Five  or  six  men, 
including  Major  Arms,  were  wounded,  and  a  num- 
ber of  the  horses  were  shot.  As  the  fight  pro- 
ceeded, the  enemy  seemed  to  become  steadily  more 
numerous.  It  was  apparent  that  reenforcements 
were  arriving  from  some  large  party  in  the  rear. 

The  negro  troops,  who  had  been  boasting  of 
what  they  would  do  to  the  Indians,  were  now 
singing  a.  different  tune. 

**We'll  jes'  blow  'em  off 'm  de  fahm,"  they  had 
said,  before  there  was  an  enemy  in  sight.    Now, 


102      BUFFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STORY 

every  time  the  foe  would  charge  us,  some  of  the 
darkies  would  cry: 

**Heah  dey  come!  De  whole  country  is  alive 
wif  'em.  Dere  must  be  ten  thousand  ob  dem. 
Massa  Bill,  does  you-all  reckon  we  is  ebber  gwine 
to  get  out  o'  heahr' 

The  major,  who  had  been  lying  under  the  can- 
non since  receiving  his  wound,  asked  me  if  I 
thought  there  was  a  chance  to  get  back  to  the 
fort.  I  replied  that  there  was,  and  orders  were 
given  for  a  retreat,  the  cannon  being  left  behind. 

During  the  movement  a  number  of  our  men 
were  killed  by  the  deadly  fire  of  the  Indians.  But 
night  fell,  and  in  the  darkness  we  made  fairly  good 
headway,  arriving  at  Fort  Hays  just  at  daybreak. 
During  our  absence  cholera  had  broken  out  at 
the  post.  Five  or  six  men  were  dying  daily.  For 
the  men  there  was  a  choice  of  dangers — going  out 
to  fight  the  Indians  on  the  prairie,  or  remaining 
in  camp  to  be  stricken  with  cholera.  To  most 
of  us  the  former  was  decidedly  the  more  inviting. 

**The  Eise  and  Fall  of  Modern  Rome" — ^was 
the  chapter  of  frontier  history  in  which  I  next 
figured.  For  a  time  I  was  part  owner  of  a  town, 
and  on  my  way  to  fortune.  And  then  one  of  those 
quick  changes  that  mark  "Western  history  in  the 
making  occurred  and  I  was  left — ^but  I  will  tell 
you  the  story. 

At  the  town  of  Ellsworth,  which  I  visited  one 
day  while  carrying  dispatches  to  Fort  Harker, 
I  met  William  Rose,  who  had  a  contract  for  trad- 
ing on  the  right-of-way  of  the  Kansas  Pacific  near 


BUFFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STOKY      103 

Fort  Hays.  His  stock  had  been  stolen  by  the 
Indians,  and  he  had  come  to  Ellsworth  to  buy 
more. 

Eose  was  enthusiastic  about  a  project  for  laying 
out  a  town  site  on  the  west  side  of  Big  Creek, 
a  mile  from  the  fort,  where  the  railroad  was  to 
cross.  When,  in  response  to  a  request  for  my 
opinion,  I  told  him  I  thought  the  scheme  a  big 
one,  he  invited  me  to  come  in  as  a  partner.  He 
suggested  that  after  the  town  was  laid  out  and 
opened  to  the  public  we  establish  a  store  and 
saloon. 

I  thought  it  would  be  a  grand  thing  to  become 
half  owner  of  a  town,  and  at  once  accepted  the 
proposition.  We  hired  a  railroad  engineer  to 
survey  the  town  site  and  stake  it  into  lots.  Also 
we  ordered  a  big  stock  of  the  goods  usually  kept 
in  a  general  merchandise  store  on  the  frontier. 
This  done,  we  gave  the  town  the  ancient  and  his- 
torical name  of  Rome.  As  a  starter  we  donated 
lots  to  anyone  who  would  build  on  them,  reserv- 
ing for  ourselves  the  corner  lots  and  others  which 
were  best  located.  These  reserved  lots  we  valued 
at  two  hundred  and  fifty  dollars  each. 

When  the  town  was  laid  out  I  wrote  my  wife 
that  I  was  worth  $250,000,  and  told  her  I  wanted 
her  to  get  ready  to  come  to  Ellsworth  by  rail. 
She  was  then  visiting  her  parents  at  St.  Louis, 
with  our  baby  daughter  whom  we  had  named  Arta. 

I  was  at  Ellsworth  to  meet  her  when  she  ar- 
rived, bringing  the  baby.  Besides  three  or  four 
wagons,  in  which  the  supplies  for  the  new  general 


104      BUFFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STORY 

store  and  furniture  for  the  little  house  I  had  built 
were  loaded,  I  had  a  carriage  for  her  and  the 
baby.  The  new  town  of  Rome  was  a  hundred 
miles  west.  I  knew  that  it  would  be  a  dangerous 
trip,  as  the  Indians  had  long  been  troublesome 
along  the  railroad,  and  I  realized  the  danger  more 
fully  because  of  the  presence  of  my  wife  and 
little  daughter. 

A  number  of  immigrants  bound  for  the  new 
town  accompanied  us. 

The  first  night  out  I  formed  the  men  into  a 
company,  one  squad  to  stand  watch  while  the 
others  slept.  All  the  early  part  of  the  evening 
I  went  the  rounds  of  the  camp,  much  to  my  wife 's 
annoyance. 

**Why  are  you  away  so  muchf  she  kept  asking. 
**It  is  lonesome  here,  and  I  need  you." 

Rather  than  let  her  know  of  my  uneasiness 
about  the  Indians,  I  told  her  I  was  trying  to  sell 
lots  to  the  men  while  they  were  en  route.  As 
the  night  wore  on  and  everything  seemed  quiet  I 
prepared  to  get  a  little  rest.  I  did  not  take  my 
clothes  off,  and,  much  to  my  wife's  surprise, 
slept  with  my  rifle  and  revolvers  close  by  me.  I 
had  just  dropped  off  to  sleep  when  I  heard 
shots,  and  knew  they  could  mean  nothing  but 
Indians. 

The  attacking  party  was  small  and  we  were 
fully  prepared.  When  they  discovered  this  they 
fired  a  few  shots  and  galloped  away. 

The  second  night  was  almost  a  repetition  of 
the  first.    After  another  party  had  been  repulsed, 


BUFFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STORY      105 

Mrs.  Cody  asked  me  if  I  had  brought  her  and  the 
baby  out  on  the  Plains  to  be  killed. 

**This  is  the  kind  of  a  life  I  lead  every  day 
and  get  fat  on  it/'  I  said.  But  she  did  not  seem 
to  think  it  especially  congenial. 

Everybody  turned  out  to  greet  us  when  we 
arrived  in  Rome.  Even  the  gambling-hall  houses 
and  the  dance-halls  closed  in  our  honor.  The  next 
day  we  moved  into  our  little  house.  That  night 
there  was  a  veritable  fusillade  of  revolver  shots 
outside  the  window. 

*^What  is  thatr'  asked  Mrs.  Cody. 

**Just  a  serenade,"  I  said. 

*'Are  you  firing  blank  cartridges?" 

**No.  If  it  became  known  that  revolvers  were 
loaded  with  blank  cartridges  around  here  we  would 
soon  lose  some  of  our  most  valued  citizens. 
Everybody  in  town,  from  the  police  judge  to  dish- 
washers, carries  a  pistol." 

^^Why?" 

**To  keep  law  and  order." 

That  puzzled  my  wife.  She  said  that  in  St. 
Louis  policemen  kept  law  and  order,  and  wanted 
to  know  why  we  didn't  have  them  to  do  it  out 
here.  I  informed  her  that  a  policeman  would  not 
last  very  long  in  a  town  like  this,  which  was  per- 
fectly true. 

On  my  return  from  a  hunting  trip  a  few  days 
later  I  met  a  man  who  had  come  into  town  on 
the  stage-coach,  and  whom  Mrs.  Cody  had  seen 
looking  over  the  town  site  from  every  possible 
angle.    He  told  me  he  thought  I  had  selected  a 


106      BUFFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STOEY 

good  town  site — and  I  agreed  with  him.  He  asked 
me  to  go  for  a  ride  around  the  surrounding  coun- 
try with  him  the  next  day.  I  told  him  I  was 
going  on  a  buffalo  hunt.  He  had  never  killed  a 
buffalo,  he  said.  He  wanted  to  get  a  fine  head 
to  take  back  with  him,  and  would  be  grateful 
if  I  would  take  him  with  me.  I  promised  to  see 
that  he  got  a  nice  head  if  he  came  along,  and 
early  the  next  morning  rode  down  to  his  hotel. 
He  was  dressed  in  a  smart  hunting  costume  and 
had  his  rifle.  We  started  for  the  plains,  my 
wagons  following  to  gather  up  the  meat  we  should 
kill. 

As  we  rode  out  I  explained  to  him  how  I  hunted. 
'  *  I  kill  as  many  buffalo  as  I  want, ' '  I  said.  *  *  This 
I  call  a  *  run. '  The  wagons  come  along  afterward 
and  the  butchers  cut  the  meat  and  load  it. ' '  When 
I  went  out  on  my  **run"  I  told  him  where  to 
shoot  to  kill.  But  when  my  work  was  done' 
I  met  him  coming  back  crestfallen.  He  had  failed 
to  get  his  buffalo  down,  although  he  had  shot  him 
three  times. 

**Come  along  with  me,"  I  said.  **I  see  another 
herd  over  there.  I  am  going  to  change  saddles 
with  you  and  let  you  ride  the  best  buffalo  horse 
on  the  Plains." 

He  was  astonished  and  delighted  to  think  I 
would  let  him  ride  Brigham,  the  most  famous  buf- 
falo horse  in  the  West.  When  we  drew  near 
the  herd  I  pointed  out  a  fine  four-year-old  bull 
with  a  splendid  head.  I  galloped  alongside. 
Brigham  spotted  the  buffalo  I  wanted,  and  after 


BUFFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STORY      107 

my  companion's  third  shot  the  brute  fell.  My 
pupil  was  overjoyed  with  his  success,  and  ap- 
peared to  be  so  grateful  to  me  that  I  felt  sure 
I  should  be  able  to  sell  him  three  or  four  blocks 
of  Eome  real  estate  at  least.  I  invited  him  to 
take  dinner,  and  served  as  part  of  the  repast  the 
meat  of  the  buffalo  he  had  shot.  The  next  morn- 
ing he  looked  me  up  and  told  me  he  wanted  to 
make  a  proposition  to  me. 

**What  is  it?"  I  asked.  I  had  thought  I  was 
the  one  who  was  going  to  make  a  proposition. 

**I  will  give  you  one-eighth  of  this  town  site," 
he  said. 

The  nerve  of  this  proposal  took  me  off  my  feet. 
Here  was  a  total  stranger  offering  me  one-eighth 
of  my  own  town  site  as  a  reward  for  what  I  had 
done  for  him. 

I  told  him  that  if  he  killed  another  buffalo  I 
would  have  to  hog-hobble  him  and  send  him  out 
of  town;  then  rode  off  and  left  him. 

This  magnanimous  offer  occurred  right  in  front 
of  my  own  house.  My  wife  overheard  it,  and  also 
my  reply. 

As  I  rode  away,  he  called  out  that  he  wanted 
to  explain,  but  I  was  thoroughly  disgusted. 

**I  have  no  time  to  listen  to  you,"  I  shouted  over 
my  shoulder. 

I  was  bound  out  on  a  buffalo  hunt  to  get  meat 
for  the  graders  twenty  miles  away  on  the  railroad, 
and  I  kept  right  on  going.  Three  days  afterward 
I  rode  back  over  the  ridge  above  the  town  of 
Eome  and  looked  down  on  it. 


108      BUFFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STORY 

I  took  several  more  looks.  The  town  was  be- 
ing torn  down  and  carted  away.  The  balloon- 
frame  buildings  were  coming  apart  section  by  sec- 
tion. I  could  see  at  least  a  hundred  teams  and 
wagons  carting  lumber,  furniture,  and  everything 
that  made  up  the  town  over  the  prairies  to  the 
eastward. 

My  pupil  at  buffalo  hunting  was  Dr.  Webb, 
president  of  the  town-site  company  of  the  Kansas 
Pacific.  After  I  had  ridden  away  without  listen- 
ing to  his  explanations  he  had  invited  the  citizens 
of  Rome  to  come  over  and  see  where  the  new 
railroad  division  town  of  Hays  City  was  to  be 
built.  He  supplied  them  with  wagons  for  the 
journey  from  a  number  of  rock  wagons  that  had 
been  lent  him  by  the  Government  to  assist  him 
in  the  location  of  a  new  town.  The  distance  was 
only  a  mile,  and  he  got  a  crowd.  At  the  town 
site  of  Hays  City  he  made  a  speech,  telling  the 
people  who  he  was  and  what  he  proposed  to  do. 
He  said  the  railroad  would  build  its  repair-shops 
at  the  new  town,  and  there  would  be  employment 
for  many  men,  and  that  Hays  City  was  destined 
soon  to  be  the  most  important  place  on  the  Plains. 
He  had  already  put  surveyors  to  work  on  the  site. 
Lots,  he  said,  were  then  on  the  market,  and  could 
be  had  far  more  reasonably  than  the  lots  in  Rome. 

My  fellow-citizens  straightway  began  to  pick 
out  their  lots  in  the  new  town.  Webb  loaned  them 
the  six-mule  Government  wagons  to  bring  over 
their  goods  and  chattels,  together  with  the  tim- 
bers of  their  houses.    When  I  galloped  into  Rome 


BUFFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STORY      109 

that  day  there  was  hardly  a  house  left  standing 
save  my  little  home,  our  general  store,  and  a  few 
sod-houses  and  dugouts. 

Mrs.  Cody  and  the  baby  were  sitting, o|i  a  dry- 
goods  box  when  I  rode  up  to  the  stored-  My  part- 
ner, Rose,  stood  near  by,  whistling  an4  whittling. 

**My  word.  Rose!  What  has  beeOme  of  our 
town?"  I  cried.  Rose  could  make  no  answer. 
Mrs.  Cody  said: 

**You  wrote  me  you  were  worth  $250,000." 

**WeVe  got  no  time  to  talk  about  that  now," 
I  said.    **What  made  this  town  move  away?" 

**You  ought  to  have  taken  Mr.  Webb's  offer," 
was  her  answer. 

**Who  the  dickens  is  Webb?"  I  stormed.  Rose 
looked  up  from  his  whittling.  **Bill,"  he  said, 
**that  little  flapper- jack  was  the  president  of  the 
town-site  company  for  the  K.  P.  Railroad,  and 
he's  run  such  a  bluff  on  our  citizens  about  a  new 
town  site  that  is  going  to  be  a  division-point  that 
they've  all  moved  over  there." 

**Yes,"  commented  Mrs.  Cody,  *'and  where  is 
your  $250,000?" 

**Well,  I've  got  to  make  it  yet,"  I  said,  and 
then  to  Rose:  *^How  did  the  fall  hit  you?" 

**What  fall?" 

**From  millionaire  to  pauper." 

**It  hasn't  got  through  hitting  me  yet,"  he  said 
solemnly. 

Rose  went  back  to  his  grading  contract,  and 
I  resumed  my  work  as  a  buffalo  hunter.  When 
the  Perry  House,  the  Rome  hotel,  was  moved  to 


110      BUFFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STORY 

Hays  City  and  rebuilt  there,  I  took  my  wife  and 
daughter  and  installed  them  there. 

It  was  hard  to  descend  from  the  rank  of  mil- 
lionaires to  that  of  graders  and  buffalo  hunters, 
but  we  had  to  do  it.  The  rise  and  fall  of  modem 
Rome  had  made  us,  and  it  broke  us  I 


CHAPTER  IV 

I  SOON  became  better  acquainted  with  Dr.  Webb, 
through  whose  agency  our  town  of  Rome  had 
fallen  almost  overnight.  We  visited  him  often 
in  Hays,  and  eventually  he  presented  my  partner 
Rose  and  myself  each  with  two  lots  in  the  new 
town. 

Webb  frequently  accompanied  me  on  buffalo- 
hunting  excursions;  and  before  he  had  been  on 
the  prairie  a  year  there  were  few  men  whb  could 
kill  more  buffalo  than  he. 

Once,  when  I  was  riding  Brigham,  and  Webb 
was  mounted  on  a  splendid  thoroughbred  bay,  we 
discovered  a  band  of  Indians  about  two  miles  dis- 
tant, maneuvering  so  as  to  get  between  us  and 
the  town.  A  gallop  of  three  miles  brought  us 
between  them  and  home;  but  by  that  time  they 
had  come  within  three-quarters  of  a  mile  of  us. 
We  stopped  to  wave  our  hands  at  them,  and  fired 
a  few  shots  at  long  range.  But  as  there  were 
thirteen  in  the  party,  and  they  were  getting  a 
little  too  close,  we  turned  and  struck  out  for  Hays. 
They  sent  some  scattering  shots  in  pursuit,  then 
wheeled  and  rode  off  toward  the  Saline  River. 

When  there  were  no  buffalo  to  hunt  I  tried  the 
experiment  of  hitching  Brigham  to  one  of  our  rail- 
road scrapers,  but  he  was  not  gaited  for  that  sort 
of  work.    I  had  about  given  up  the  idea  of  ex- 

111 


112      BUFFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STORY 

tending  his  usefulness  to  railroading  when  news 
came  that  buffaloes  were  coming  over  the  hill. 
There  had  been  none  in  the  vicinity  for  some  time. 
As  a  consequence,  meat  was  scarce. 

I  took  the  harness  from  Brigham,  mounted  him 
bareback  and  started  after  the  game,  being  armed 
with  my  new  buffalo  killer  which  I  had  named 
*'Lucretia  Borgia,''  an  improved  breech-loading 
needle-gun  which  I  had  obtained  from  the  Gov- 
ernment. 

As  I  was  riding  toward  the  buffaloes  I  observed 
five  men  coming  from  the  fort.  They,  too,  had 
seen  the  herd  and  had  come  to  join  the  chase.  As 
I  neared  them  I  saw  that  they  were  officers,  newly 
arrived  at  the  fort,  a  captain  and  four  lieuten- 
ants. 

** Hello,  my  friend!"  sang  out  the  captain  as 
they  came  up.  **I  see  you  are  after  the  same 
game  we  are. ' ' 

**Yes,  sir,"  I  returned.  **I  saw  those  buffaloes 
coming.  We  are  out  of  fresh  meat,  so  I  thought 
I  would  get  some." 

The  captain  eyed  my  cheap-looking  outfit 
closely.  Brigham,  though  the  best  buffalo  horse 
in  the  West,  was  decidedly  unprepossessing  in 
appearance. 

**Do  you  expect  to  catch  any  buffaloes  on  that 
Gothic  steed?"  asked  the  captain,  with  a  laugh. 

**Ihopeso." 

**You'll  never  catch  them  in  the  world,  my  fine 
fellow.  It  requires  a  fast  horse  to  overtake  those 
animals. ' ' 


BUFFALO  BILLYS  OWN  STORY      113 

**Does  it?"  I  asked  innocently. 

**Yes.  But  come  along  with  us.  We're  going 
to  kill  them  more  for  the  sport  than  anything 
else.  After  we  take  the  tongues  and  a  piece 
of  the  tenderloin,  you  may  have  what  is 
left." 

Eleven  animals  were  in  the  herd,  which  was 
about  a  mile  distant.  I  noticed  they  were  making 
toward  the  creek  for  water.  I  knew  buffalo  na- 
ture, and  was  aware  that  it  would  be  difficult  to 
turn  them  from  their  course.  I  therefore  started 
toward  the  creek  to  head  them  off,  while  the  offi- 
cers dashed  madly  up  behind  them. 

The  herd  came  rushing  up  past  me,  not  a  hun- 
dred yards  distant,  while  their  pursuers  followed, 
three  hundred  yards  in  the  rear. 

**Now,"  thought  I,  *4s  the  time  to  get  in  my 
work."  I  pulled  the  blind  bridle  from  Brigham, 
who  knew  as  well  as  I  did  what  was  expected  of 
him.  The  moment  he  was  free  of  the  bridle  he 
set  out  at  top  speed,  running  in  ahead  of  the  offi- 
cers. In  a  few  jumps  he  brought  me  alongside 
the  rear  buffalo.  Raising  old  *^Lucretia  Borgia," 
I  killed  the  animal  with  one  shot.  On  went  Brig- 
ham  to  the  next  buffalo,  ten  feet  farther  along, 
and  another  was  disposed  of.  As  fast  as  one  ani- 
mal would  fall,  Brigham  would  pass  to  the  next, 
getting  so  close  that  I  could  almost  touch  it  with 
my  gun.  In  this  fashion  I  killed  eleven  buffaloes 
with  twelve  shots. 

As  the  last  one  dropped  my  horse  stopped.  I 
jumped  to  the  ground.    Turning  round  to  the  as- 


114      BUFFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STORY 

tonished  officers,  who  had  by  this  time  caught  up, 
I  said: 

**Now,  gentlemen,  allow  me  to  present  you  with 
all  the  tongues  and  tenderloins  from  these  animals 
that  you  want. ' ' 

Captain  Graham,  who,  I  soon  learned,  was  the 
senior  officer,  gasped.  **Well,  I  never  saw  the 
like  before!    Who  are  you,  anyway f 

**My  name  is  Cody,"  I  said. 

Lieutenant  Thompson,  one  of  the  party,  who 
had  met  me  at  Fort  Harker,  cried  out:  '^Why, 
that  is  Bill  Cody,  our  old  scout."  He  introduced 
me  to  his  comrades,  Captain  Graham  and  Lieu- 
tenants Reed,  Emmick,  and  Ezekial. 

Graham,  something  of  a  horseman  himself, 
greatly  admired  Brigham.  *  *  That  horse  of  yours 
has  running  points,"  he  admitted. 

The  officers  were  a  little  sore  at  not  getting 
a  single  shot ;  but  the  way  I  had  killed  the  buffa- 
loes, they  said,  amply  repaid  them  for  their  dis- 
appointment. It  was  the  first  time  they  had  ever 
seen  or  heard  of  a  white  man  running  buffaloes 
without  either  saddle  or  bridle. 

I  told  them  Brigham  knew  nearly  as  much  about 
the  business  as  I  did.  He  was  a  wonderful  horse. 
If  the  buffalo  did  not  fall  at  the  first  shot  he 
would  stop  to  give  me  a  second  chance;  but  if, 
on  the  second  shot,  I  did  not  kill  the  game,  he 
would  go  on  impatiently  as  if  to  say:  **I  can't  fool 
away  my  time  by  giving  you  more  than  two 
shots!" 

Captain  Graham  told  me  that  he  would  be  sta- 


BUFFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STORY      115 

tioned  at  Fort  Hays  during  the  summer.  In  the 
event  of  his  being  sent  out  on  a  scouting  expedi- 
tion he  wanted  me  as  scout  and  guide.  I  said 
that  although  I  was  very  busy  with  my  railroad 
contract  I  would  be  glad  to  go  with  him. 

That  night  the  Indians  unexpectedly  raided  our 
horses,  and  ran  off  five  or  six  of  the  best  work- 
teams.  At  daylight  I  jumped  on  Brigham,  rode 
to  Fort  Hays,  and  reported  the  raid  to  the  com- 
manding officer.  Captain  Graham  and  Lieutenant 
Emmick  were  ordered  out  with  their  company  of 
one  hundred  colored  troops.  In  an  hour  we  were 
under  way.  The  darkies  had  never  been  in  an 
Indian  fight  and  were  anxious  to  **  sweep  de  red 
debbils  off  de  face  ob  de  earth.''  Graham  was 
a  dashing  officer,  eager  to  make  a  record,  and 
it  was  with  difficulty  that  I  could  trail  fast  enough 
to  keep  out  of  the  way  of  the  impatient  soldiers. 
Every  few  moments  the  captain  would  ride  up 
to  see  if  the  trail  was  freshening,  and  to  ask  how 
soon  we  would  overtake  the  marauders. 

At  the  Saline  River  we  found  the  Indians  had 
stopped  only  to  graze  and  water  the  animals  and 
had  pushed  on  toward  Solomon.  After  crossing 
the  river  they  made  no  effort  to  conceal  their  trail, 
thinking  they  were  safe  from  pursuit.  We 
reached  Solomon  at  sunset.  Requesting  Captain 
Graham  to  keep  his  command  where  it  was,  I 
went  ahead  to  try  to  locate  the  redmen. 

Riding  down  a  ravine  that  led  to  the  river,  I 
left  my  horse,  and,  creeping  uphill,  looked  cau- 
tiously over  the  summit  upon  Solomon.    In  plain 


116      BUFFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STORY 

sight,  not  a  mile  away,  was  a  herd  of  horses  graz- 
ing, among  them  the  animals  which  had  been 
stolen  from  us.  Presently  I  made  out  the  Indian 
camp,  noted  its  '*lay,''  and  calculated  how  best 
we  could  approach  it. 

Graham's  eyes  danced  with  excitement  when  I 
reported  the  prospect  of  an  immediate  encounter. 
We  decided  to  wait  until  the  moon  rose,  and  then 
make  a  sudden  dash,  taking  the  redskins  by  sur- 
prise. 

We  thought  we  had  everything  cut  and  dried, 
but  alas !  just  as  we  were  nearing  the  point  where 
we  were  to  take  the  open  ground  and  make  our 
charge,  one  of  the  colored  gentlemen  became  so 
excited  that  he  fired  his  gun. 

We  began  the  charge  immediately,  but  the  warn- 
ing had  been  sounded.  The  Indians  at  once  sprang 
to  their  horses,  and  were  away  before  we  reached 
their  camp.  Captain  Graham  shouted,  **  Follow 
me,  boys!"  and  follow  him  we  did,  but  in  the 
darkness  the  Indians  made  good  their  escape. 
The  bugle  sounded  the  recall,  but  some  of  the 
darkies  did  not  get  back  to  camp  until  the  next 
morning,  having,  in  their  fright,  allowed  the 
horses  to  run  wherever  it  suited  them  to  go. 

We  followed  the  trail  awhile  the  next  day,  but 
it  became  evident  that  it  would  be  a  long  chase, 
and  as  we  were  short  of  rations  we  started  back 
to  camp.  Captain  Graham  was  bitterly  disap- 
pointed at  being  cheated  out  of  a  fight  that  seemed 
at  hand.  He  roundly  cursed  the  darky  who  had 
given  the  warning  with  his  gun.    That  gentleman, 


BUFFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STORY      117 

as  a  punishment,  was  compelled  to  walk  all  the 
way  back  to  Fort  Hays. 

The  western  end  of  the  Kansas  Pacific  was  at 
this  time  in  the  heart  of  the  buffalo  country. 
Twelve  hundred  men  were  employed  in  the  con- 
struction of  the  road.  The  Indians  were  very 
troublesome,  and  it  was  difficult  to  obtain  fresh 
meat  for  the  hands.  The  company  therefore  con- 
cluded to  engage  expert  hunters  to  kill  buffaloes. 

Having  heard  of  my  experience  and  success  as 
a  buffalo  hunter,  Goddard  Brothers,  who  had  the 
contract  for  feeding  the  men,  made  me  a  good 
offer  to  become  their  hunter.  They  said  they 
would  require  about  twelve  buffaloes  a  day — 
twenty-four  hams  and  twelve  humps,  as  only  the 
hxmap  and  hindquarters  of  each  animal  were  util- 
ized. The  work  was  dangerous.  Indians  were 
riding  all  over  that  section  of  the  country,  and 
my  duties  would  require  me  to  journey  from  five 
to  ten  miles  from  the  railroad  every  day  in  order 
to  secure  the  game,  accompanied  by  only  one  man 
with  a  light  wagon  to  haul  the  meat  back  to  camp. 
I  demanded  a  large  salary,  which  they  could  well 
afford  to  pay,  as  the  meat  itself  would  cost  them 
nothing.  Under  the  terms  of  the  contract  which 
I  signed  with  them,  I  was  to  receive  five  hundred 
dollars  a  month,  agreeing  on  my  part  to  supply 
them  with  all  the  meat  they  wanted. 

Leaving  Rose  to  complete  our  grading  contract, 
I  at  once  began  my  career  as  a  buffalo  hunter  for 
the  Kansas  Pacific.  It  was  not  long  before  I  ac- 
quired a  considerable  reputation,  and  it  was  at 


118      BUFFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STOEY 

this  time  that  the  title  **  Buffalo  BilP'  was  con- 
ferred upon  me  by  the  railroad  hands.  Of  this 
title,  which  has  stuck  to  me  through  life,  I  have 
never  been  ashamed. 

During  my  engagement  as  hunter  for  the  com- 
pany, which  covered  a  period  of  eighteen  months, 
I  killed  4,280  buffaloes  and  had  many  exciting  ad- 
ventures with  the  Indians,  including  a  number  of 
hairbreadth  escapes,  some  of  which  are  well  worth 
relating. 

One  day,  in  the  spring  of  1868, 1  mounted  Brig- 
ham  and  started  for  Smoky  Hill  Kiver.  After  a 
gallop  of  twenty  miles  I  reached  the  top  of  a  small 
hill  overlooking  that  beautiful  stream.  Gazing  out 
over  the  landscape,  I  saw  a  band  of  about  thirty 
Indians  some  half-mile  distant.  I  knew  by  the 
way  they  jumped  on  their  horses  they  had  seen 
me  as  soon  as  I  saw  them. 

My  one  chance  for  my  life  was  to  run.  I  wheeled 
my  horse  and  started  for  the  railroad.  Brigham 
struck  out  as  if  he  comprehended  that  this  was  a 
life-or-death  matter.  On  reaching  the  next  ridge 
I  looked  around  and  saw  the  Indians,  evidently 
well  mounted,  and  coming  for  me  full  speed.  Brig- 
ham  put  his  whole  strength  into  the  flight,  and 
for  a  few  minutes  did  some  of  the  prettiest  run- 
ning I  ever  saw.  But  the  Indians  had  nearly  as 
good  mounts  as  he,  and  one  of  their  horses  in  par- 
ticular, a  spotted  animal,  gained  on  me  steadily. 

Occasionally  the  brave  who  was  riding  this  fleet 
horse  would  send  a  bullet  whistling  after  me. 
Soon  they  began  to  strike  too  near  for  comfort. 


BUFFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STORY      119 

The  other  Indians  were  strung  out  along  behind, 
and  could  do  no  immediate  damage.  But  I  saw 
that  the  fellow  in  the  lead  must  be  checked,  or  a 
stray  bullet  might  hit  me  or  the  horse.  Suddenly- 
stopping  Brigham,  therefore,  I  raised  old  **  Lu- 
cre tia^'  to  my  shoulder  and  took  deliberate  aim, 
hoping  to  hit  either  the  horse  or  the  rider.  He 
was  not  eighty  yards  behind  me.  At  the  crack 
of  the  rifle  down  went  the  horse.  Not  waiting 
to  see  if  he  regained  his  feet,  Brigham  and  I  went 
fairly  flying  toward  our  destination.  We  had 
urgent  business  just  then  and  were  in  a  hurry 
to  attend  to  it. 

The  other  Indians  had  gained  while  I  stopped 
to  drop  the  leader.  A  volley  of  shots  whizzed 
past  me.  Fortunately  none  of  them  hit.  Now 
and  then,  to  return  the  compliment,  I  wheeled  and 
fired.  One  of  my  shots  broke  the  leg  of  one  of 
my  pursuers'  mounts. 

But  seven  or  eight  Indians  now  remained  in 
dangerous  proximity  to  me.  As  their  horses  were 
beginning  to  lag,  I  checked  Brigham  to  give  him 
an  opportunity  to  get  a  few  extra  breaths.  I 
had  determined  that  if  the  worst  came  to  the  worst 
I  would  drop  into  a  buffalo  wallow,  where  I  might 
possibly  stand  off  my  pursuers.  I  was  not  com- 
pelled to  do  this,  for  Brigham  carried  me  through 
nobly. 

When  we  came  within  three  miles  of  the  rail- 
road track,  where  two  companies  of  soldiers  were 
stationed,  one  of  the  outposts  gave  the  alarm. 
In  a  few  minutes,  to  my  great  delight,  I  saw  men 


120      BUFFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STOEY 

on  foot  and  on  horseback  hurrying  to  the  rescue. 
The  Indians  quickly  turned  and  galloped  away 
as  fast  as  they  had  come.  When  I  reached  my 
friends,  I  turned  Brigham  over  to  them.  He  was 
led  away  and  given  the  care  and  rub-down  that 
he  richly  deserved. 

Captain  Nolan  of  the  Tenth  Cavalry  now  came 
up  with  forty  men,  and  on  hearing  my  account 
of  what  had  happened  determined  to  pursue  the 
Indians.  I  was  given  a  cavalry  horse  for  a  re- 
mount and  we  were  off. 

Our  horses  were  all  fresh  and  excellent  stock. 
We  soon  began  shortening  the  distance  between 
ourselves  and  the  fugitives.  Before  they  had 
fled  five  miles  we  overtook  them  and  killed  eight 
of  their  number.  The  others  succeeded  in  making 
their  escape.  Upon  coming  to  the  place  where 
I  had  dropped  the  spotted  horse  that  carried  the 
leader  of  my  pursuers  I  found  that  my  bullet  had 
struck  him  in  the  forehead,  killing  him  instantly. 
He  was  a  fine  animal,  and  should  have  been  en- 
gaged in  better  business. 

On  our  return  we  found  old  Brigham  grazing 
contentedly.  He  looked  up  inquiring,  as  if  to  ask 
if  we  had  punished  the  redskins  who  pursued  us. 
I  think  he  read  the  answer  in  my  eyes. 

Another  adventure  which  deserves  a  place  in 
these  reminiscences  occurred  near  the  Saline 
Elver.  My  companion  at  the  time  was  Scotty, 
the  butcher  who  accompanied  me  on  my  hunts, 
to  cut  up  the  meat  and  load  it  on  the  wagon  for 
hauling  to  the  railroad  camp. 


BUFFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STORY      121 

I  had  killed  fifteen  buffaloes,  and  we  were  on 
our  way  home  with  a  wagonload  of  meat  when 
we  were  jumped  by  a  big  band  of  Indians. 

I  was  mounted  on  a  splendid  horse  belonging 
to  the  company,  and  could  easily  have  made  my 
escape,  but  Scotty  had  only  the  mule  team,  which 
drew  the  wagon  as  a  means  of  flight,  and  of  course 
I  could  not  leave  him. 

To  think  was  to  act  in  those  days.  Scotty  and 
I  had  often  talked  of  what  we  would  do  in  case 
of  a  sudden  attack,  and  we  forthwith  proceeded 
to  carry  out  the  plan  we  had  made. 

Jumping  to  the  ground,  we  unhitched  the  mules 
more  quickly  than  that  operation  had  ever  been 
performed  before.  The  mules  and  my  horse  we 
tied  to  the  wagon.  We  threw  the  buffalo  hams 
on  the  ground  and  piled  them  about  the  wheels 
so  as  to  form  a  breastwork.  Then,  with  an  extra 
box  of  ammunition  and  three  or  four  extra  re- 
volvers which  we  always  carried  with  us,  we  crept 
under  the  wagon,  prepared  to  give  our  visitors  a 
reception  they  would  remember. 

On  came  the  Indians,  pell-mell,  but  when  they 
got  within  a  hundred  yards  of  us  we  opened  such 
a  sudden  and  galling  fire  that  they  held  up  and 
began  circling  about  us. 

Several  times  they  charged.  Their  shots  killed 
the  two  mules  and  my  horse.  But  we  gave  it  to 
them  right  and  left,  and  had  the  satisfaction  of 
seeing  three  of  them  fall  to  the  ground  not  more 
than  fifty  feet  away. 

When  we  had  been  cooped  up  in  our  little  fort 


122      BUFFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STORY 

for  about  an  hour  we  saw  the  cavalry  coming  to- 
ward us,  full  gallop,  over  the  prairie.  The  In- 
dians saw  the  soldiers  almost  as  soon  as  we  did. 
Mounting  their  horses,  they  disappeared  down 
the  canon  of  the  creek.  When  the  cavalry  arrived 
we  had  the  satisfaction  of  showing  them  five  In- 
dians who  would  be  **good''  for  all  time.  Two 
hours  later  we  reached  the  camp  with  our  meat, 
which  we  found  to  be  all  right,  although  it  had 
a  few  bullets  and  arrows  imbedded  in  it. 

It  was  while  I  was  hunting  for  the  railroad 
that  I  became  acquainted  with  Kit  Carson,  one 
of  the  most  noted  of  the  guides,  scouts,  and 
hunters  that  the  West  ever  produced.  He  was 
going  through  our  country  on  his  way  to  Wash- 
ington. I  met  him  again  on  his  return,  and  he 
was  my  guest  for  a  few  days  in  Hays  City.  He 
then  proceeded  to  Fort  Lyon,  Colorado,  near 
which  his  son-in-law,  Mr.  Boggs,  resided.  His 
health  had  been  failing  for  some  time,  and  shortly 
afterward  he  died  at  Mr.  Boggs 's  residence  on 
Picket  Wire  Creek. 

Soon  after  the  adventure  with  Scotty  I  had 
my  celebrated  buffalo  shooting  contest  with  Billy 
Comstock,  a  well-known  guide,  scout,  and  inter- 
preter. Comstock,  who  was  chief  of  scouts  at 
Fort  Wallace,  had  a  reputation  of  being  a  suc- 
cessful buffalo  hunter,  and  his  friends  at  the  fort 
— the  officers  in  particular — ^were  anxious  to  back 
him  against  me. 

It  was  arranged  that  I  should  shoot  a  match 
with  him,  and  the  preliminaries  were  easily  and 


BUFFALO  BILLYS  OWN  STORY      123 

satisfactorily  arranged.  We  were  to  hunt  one 
day  of  eight  hours,  beginning  at  eight  o^clock  in 
the  morning.  The  wager  was  five  hundred  dol- 
lars a  side,  and  the  man  who  should  kill  the  greater 
number  of  buffaloes  from  horseback  was  to  be 
declared  the  winner.  Incidentally  my  title  of 
'^Buffalo  BilP'  was  at  stake. 

The  hunt  took  place  twenty  miles  east  of  Sheri- 
dan. It  had  been  well  advertised,  and  there  was 
a  big  *^ gallery.''  An  excursion  party,  whose 
members  came  chiefly  from  St.  Louis  and  num- 
bered nearly  a  hundred  ladies  and  gentlemen, 
came  on  a  special  train  to  view  the  sport.  Among 
them  was  my  wife  and  my  little  daughter  Arta, 
who  had  come  to  visit  me  for  a  time. 

Buffaloes  were  plentiful.  It  had  been  agreed 
that  we  should  go  into  the  herd  at  the  same  time 
and  make  our  **runs,"  each  man  killing  as  many 
animals  as  possible.  A  referee  followed  each 
of  us,  horseback,  and  counted  the  buffaloes  killed 
by  each  man.  The  excursionists  and  other  spec- 
tators rode  out  to  the  hunting-grounds  in  wagons 
and  on  horseback,  keeping  well  out  of  sight  of 
the  buffaloes,  so  as  not  to  frighten  them  until  the 
time  came  for  us  to  dash  into  the  herd.  They 
were  permitted  to  approach  closely  enough  to  see 
what  was  going  on. 

For  the  first  **run"  we  were  fortunate  in  get- 
ting good  ground.  Comstock  was  mounted  on 
his  favorite  horse.  I  rode  old  Brigham.  I  felt 
confident  that  I  had  the  advantage  in  two  things : 
first,  I  had  the  best  buffalo  horse  in  the  country; 


124      BUFFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STOET 

second,  I  was  using  what  was  known  at  the  time 
as  a  needle-gun,  a  breech-loading  Springfield  rifle, 
caliber  .50.  This  was  **Lucretia,"  the  weapon 
of  which  I  have  already  told  you.  Comstock's 
Henry  rifle,  though  it  could  fire  more  rapidly  than 
mine,  did  not,  I  felt  certain,  carry  powder  and 
lead  enough  to  equal  my  weapon  in  execution. 

When  the  time  came  to  go  into  the  herd.  Corn- 
stock  and  I  dashed  forward,  followed  by  the  ref- 
erees. The  animals  separated.  Comstock  took 
the  left  bunch,  I  the  right.  My  great  forte  in 
killing  buffaloes  was  to  get  them  circling  by  rid- 
ing my  horse  at  the  head  of  the  herd  and  shoot- 
ing their  leaders.  Thus  the  brutes  behind  were 
crowded  to  the  left,  so  that  they  were  soon  going 
round  and  round. 

This  particular  morning  the  animals  were  very 
accommodating.  I  soon  had  them  running  in  a 
beautiful  circle.  I  dropped  them  thick  and  fast 
till  I  had  killed  thirty-eight,  which  finished  my 
''run.'' 

Comstock  began  shooting  at  the  rear  of  the 
buffaloes  he  was  chasing,  and  they  kept  on  in  a 
straight  line.  He  succeeded  in  killing  twenty- 
three,  but  they  were  scattered  over  a  distance 
of  three  miles.  The  animals  I  had  shot  lay  close 
together. 

Our  St.  Louis  friends  set  out  champagne  when 
the  result  of  the  first  run  was  announced.  It 
proved  a  good  drink  on  a  Kansas  prairie,  and  a 
buffalo  hunter  proved  an  excellent  man  to  dis- 
pose of  it. 


WINNING    MY    NAME—    BUFFALO    BILL' 


BUFFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STORY      125 

While  we  were  resting  we  espied  another  herd 
approaching.  It  was  a  small  drove,  but  we  pre- 
pared to  make  it  serve  our  purpose.  The  buffaloes 
were  cows  and  calves,  quicker  in  their  movements 
than  the  bulls.  We  charged  in  among  them,  and 
I  got  eighteen  to  Comstock's  fourteen. 

Again  the  spectators  approached,  and  once 
more  the  champagne  went  round.  After  a  lunch- 
eon we  resumed  the  hunt.  Three  miles  distant 
we  saw  another  herd.  I  was  so  far  ahead  of  my 
competitor  now  that  I  thought  I  could  afford 
to  give  an  exhibition  of  my  skill.  Leaving  my 
saddle  and  bridle  behind,  I  rode,  with  my  com- 
petitor, to  windward  of  the  buffaloes. 

I  soon  had  thirteen  down,  the  last  one  of  which 
I  had  driven  close  to  the  wagons,  where  the  ladies 
were  watching  the  contest.  It  frightened  some 
of  the  tender  creatures  to  see  a  buffalo  coming 
at  full  speed  directly  toward  them,  but  I  dropped 
him  in  his  tracks  before  he  had  got  within  fifty 
yards  of  the  wagon.  This  finished  my  *  ^  run' '  with 
a  score  of  sixty-nine  buffaloes  for  the  day.  Com- 
stock  had  killed  forty-six. 

It  was  now  late  in  the  afternoon.  Comstock 
and  his  backers  gave  up  the  idea  of  beating  me. 
The  referee  declared  me  the  winner  of  the 
match,  and  the  champion  buffalo  hunter  of  the 
Plains. 

On  our  return  to  camp  we  brought  with  us  the 
best  bits  of  meat,  as  well  as  the  biggest  and  best 
buffalo  heads.  The  heads  I  always  turned  over 
to  the  company,  which  found  a  very  good  use  for 


126      BUFFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STOEY 

them.  They  were  mounted  in  the  finest  possible 
manner  and  sent  to  the  principal  cities  along  the 
road,  as  well  as  to  the  railroad  centers  of  the 
country.  Here  they  were  prominently  placed  at 
the  leading  hotels  and  in  the  stations,  where  they 
made  an  excellent  advertisement  for  the  road. 
Today  they  attract  the  attention  of  travelers 
almost  everywhere.  Often,  while  touring  the 
country,  I  see  one  of  them,  and  feel  reasonably 
certain  that  I  brought  down  the  animal  it  once 
ornamented.  Many  a  wild  and  exciting  hunt  is 
thus  called  to  my  mind. 

In  May,  1868,  the  Kansas  Pacific  track  was 
pushed  as  far  as  Sheridan.  Construction  was 
abandoned  for  the  time,  and  my  services  as  buf- 
falo hunter  were  no  longer  required.  A  general 
Indian  war  was  now  raging  all  along  the  Western 
borders.  General  Sheridan  had  taken  up  head- 
quarters at  Fort  Hays,  in  order  to  be  on  the 
job  in  person.  Scouts  and  guides  were  once  more 
in  great  demand,  and  I  decided  to  go  back  to 
my  old  calling. 

I  did  not  wish  to  kill  my  faithful  old  Brigham 
by  the  rigors  of  a  scouting  campaign.  I  had  no 
suitable  place  to  leave  him,  and  determined  to 
dispose  of  him.  At  the  suggestion  of  a  number 
of  friends,  all  of  whom  wanted  him,  I  put  him 
up  at  a  raffle,  selling  ten  chances  at  thirty  dollars 
each,  which  were  all  quickly  taken.  Ike  Bonham, 
who  won  him,  took  him  to  Wyandotte,  Kansas, 
where  he  soon  added  fresh  laurels  to  his  already 
shining  wreath.    In  the  crowning  event  of  a  tour- 


BUFFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STOKY      127 

nament  lie  easily  outdistanced  all  entries  in  a  four- 
mile  race  to  Wyandotte,  winning  $250  for  his 
owner,  who  had  been  laughed  at  for  entering  such 
an  unprepossessing  animal. 

I  lost  track  of  him  after  that.  For  several 
years  I  did  not  know  what  had  become  of  him. 
But  many  years  after,  while  in  Memphis,  I  met 
Mr.  Wilcox,  who  had  once  been  superintendent 
of  construction  on  the  Kansas  Pacific.  He  in- 
formed me  that  he  owned  Brigham,  and  I  rode 
out  to  his  place  to  take  a  look  at  my  gallant  old 
friend.  He  seemed  to  remember  me,  as  I  put 
my  arms  about  his  neck  and  caressed  him  like  a 
long-lost  child. 

When  I  had  received  my  appointment  as  guide 
and  scout  I  was  ordered  to  report  to  the  com- 
mandant of  Fort  Larned,  Captain  Daingerfield 
Parker.  I  knew  that  it  would  be  necessary  to 
take  my  family,  who  had  been  with  me  at  Sheri- 
dan, to  Leavenworth  and  leave  them  there.  This 
I  did  at  once. 

When  I  arrived  at  Larned,  I  found  the  scouts 
under  command  of  Dick  Curtis,  an  old-time  scout 
of  whom  I  have  spoken  in  these  reminiscences. 
Three  hundred  lodges  of  Kiowa  and  Comanche 
Indians  were  encamped  near  the  fort.  These  sav- 
ages had  not  yet  gone  on  the  warpath,  but  they 
were  restless  and  discontented.  Their  leading 
chief  and  other  warriors  were  becoming  sullen 
and  insolent.  The  Post  was  garrisoned  by  only 
two  companies  of  infantry  and  one  troop  of  cav- 
alry.   General  Hazen,  who  was  at  the  post,  was 


128      BUFFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STORY 

endeavoring  to  pacify  the  Indians;  I  was  ap- 
pointed as  his  special  scont. 

Early  one  morning  in  August  I  accompanied 
him  to  Fort  Zarrah,  from  which  post  he  pro- 
ceeded, without  an  escort,  to  Fort  Harker.  In- 
structions were  left  that  the  escort  with  me  should 
return  to  Larned  the  next  day.  After  he  had 
gone  I  went  to  the  sergeant  in  command  of  the 
squad  and  informed  him  I  intended  to  return  that 
afternoon.  I  saddled  my  mule  and  set  out.  All 
went  well  till  I  got  about  halfway  between  the 
two  posts,  when  at  Pawnee  Eock  I  was  suddenly 
jumped  by  at  least  forty  Indians,  who  came  rush- 
ing up,  extending  their  hands  and  saying,  *  ^HowT ' 
**Howr'  These  redskins  had  been  hanging 
about  Fort  Lamed  that  morning.  I  saw  that 
they  had  on  their  warpaint,  and  looked  for 
trouble. 

As  they  seemed  desirous  to  shake  hands,  how- 
ever, I  obeyed  my  first  friendly  impulse,  and  held 
out  my  hand.  One  of  them  seized  it  with  a  tight 
grip  and  jerked  me  violently  forward.  Another 
grabbed  my  mule  by  the  bridle.  In  a  few  min- 
utes I  was  completely  surrounded. 

Before  I  could  do  anything  at  all  in  my  defense, 
they  had  taken  my  revolvers  from  the  holsters 
and  I  received  a  blow  on  the  head  from  a  toma- 
hawk which  rendered  me  nearly  senseless.  My 
gun,  which  was  lying  across  the  saddle,  was 
snatched  from  its  place.  Finally  two  Indians, 
laying  hold  of  the  bridle,  started  off  in  the  direc- 
tion of  the  Arkansas  River,  leading  the  mule, 


BUFFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STORY      129 

which  was  lashed  by  the  other  Indians  who  fol- 
lowed along  after. 

The  whole  crowd  was  whooping,  singing,  and 
yelling  as  only  Indians  can.  Looking  toward  the 
opposite  side  of  the  river,  I  saw  the  people  of 
a  big  village  moving  along  the  bank,  and  made 
up  my  mind  that  the  redmen  had  left  the  Post, 
and  were  on  the  warpath  in  dead  earnest. 

My  captors  crossed  the  stream  with  me,  and 
as  we  waded  through  the  shallow  water  they 
lashed  both  the  mule  and  me.  Soon  they  brought 
me  before  an  important-looking  body  of  Indians, 
who  proved  to  be  the  chiefs  and  principal  war- 
riors. Among  them  I  recognized  old  Satanta 
and  others  whom  I  knew.  I  supposed  that  all 
was  over  with  me. 

All  at  once  Satanta  asked  me  where  I  had 
been,  and  I  suddenly  had  an  inspiration. 

I  said  I  had  been  after  a  herd  of  cattle  or 
**Whoa-haws''  as  they  called  them.  The  Indians 
had  been  out  of  meat  for  several  weeks,  and  a 
large  herd  of  cattle  which  had  been  promised 
them  had  not  arrived. 

As  soon  as  I  said  I  had  been  after  **Whoa- 
haws''  old  Satanta  began  questioning  me  closely. 
When  he  asked  where  the  cattle  were  I  replied 
that  they  were  only  a  few  miles  distant  and  that 
I  had  been  sent  by  General  Hazen  to  inform  him 
that  the  herd  was  coming,  and  that  they  were 
intended  for  his  people.  This  seemed  to  please 
the  old  rascal.  He  asked  if  there  were  any  sol- 
diers with  the  herd.    I  said  there  were.    There- 


130      BUFFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STOEY 

upon  the  chiefs  held  a  consultation.  Presently 
Satanta  asked  me  if  the  general  had  really  said 
they  were  to  have  the  cattle.  I  assured  him  that 
he  had.  I  followed  this  by  a  dignified  inquiry 
as  to  why  his  young  men  had  treated  me  so 
roughly. 

He  intimated  that  this  was  only  a  boyish  freak, 
for  which  he  was  very  sorry.  The  young  men 
had  merely  wanted  to  test  my  courage.  The 
whole  thing,  he  said,  was  a  joke.  The  old  liar 
was  now  beating  me  at  the  lying  game,  but  I 
did  not  care,  since  I  was  getting  the  best  of  it. 

I  did  not  let  him  suspect  that  I  doubted  his 
word.  He  ordered  the  young  men  to  restore  my 
arms  and  reprimanded  them  for  their  conduct. 
He  was  playing  a  crafty  game,  for  he  preferred 
to  get  the  meat  without  fighting  if  possible,  and 
my  story  that  soldiers  were  coming  had  given 
him  food  for  reflection.  After  another  council  the 
old  man  asked  me  if  I  would  go  and  bring  the 
cattle  down.  **0f  course,"  I  told  him.  **Such 
are  my  instructions  from  General  Hazen." 

In  response  to  an  inquiry  if  I  wanted  any  of 
his  young  men  to  accompany  me  I  said  that  it 
would  be  best  to  go  alone.  Wheeling  my  mule 
around,  I  was  soon  across  the  river,  leaving  the 
chief  firmly  believing  that  I  was  really  going  for 
the  cattle,  which  existed  only  in  my  imagination. 

I  knew  if  I  could  get  the  river  between  me  and 
the  Indians  I  would  have  a  good  three-quarters 
of  a  mile  start  of  them  and  could  make  a  run 
for  Fort  Larned.     But  as  I  reached  the  river 


BUFFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STORY      131 

bank  I  looked  about  and  saw  ten  or  fifteen  Indians 
who  had  begun  to  suspect  that  all  was  not  as  it 
should  be. 

The  moment  my  mule  secured  a  good  foothold 
on  the  bank  I  urged  him  into  a  gentle  lope  toward 
the  place  where,  according  to  my  story,  the  cattle 
were  to  be  brought. 

Upon  reaching  the  top  of  the  ridge  and  riding 
down  the  other  side  out  of  view,  I  turned  my 
mount  and  headed  westward  for  Fort  Larned. 
I  let  him  out  for  all  he  was  worth,  and  when 
I  reached  a  little  rise  and  looked  back  the  Indian 
village  lay  in  plain  sight. 

My  pursuers  were  by  this  time  on  the  ridge 
I  had  passed  over,  and  were  looking  for  me  in 
every  direction.  Soon  they  discovered  me,  and 
discovered  also  that  I  was  running  away.  They 
struck  out  in  swift  pursuit.  In  a  few  minutes  it 
became  painfully  evident  that  they  were  gaining. 

When  I  crossed  Pawnee  Fork,  two  miles  from 
the  Post,  two  or  three  of  them  were  but  a  quarter 
of  a  mile  behind.  As  I  gained  the  opposite  side 
of  the  creek  I  was  overjoyed  to  see  some  soldiers 
in  a  Government  wagon  a  short  distance  away. 
I  yelled  at  the  top  of  my  lungs  that  the  Indians 
were  after  me. 

When  Denver  Jim,  an  old  scout,  who  was  with 
the  party,  was  informed  that  there  were  ten  or 
fifteen  Indians  in  the  pursuit  he  said: 

** Let's  lay  for  them.'' 

The  wagon  was  driven  hurriedly  in  among  the 
trees   and  low  box-elder  bushes,   and   secreted, 


132      BUFFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STOEY 

while  we  waited.  We  did  not  wait  long.  Soon 
up  came  the  Indians,  lashing  their  horses,  which 
were  blowing  and  panting.  We  let  two  of  them 
pass,  then  opened  a  lively  fire  on  the  next  three 
or  four,  killing  two  at  the  first  volley.  The  others, 
discovering  that  they  had  run  into  an  ambush, 
whirled  around  and  ran  back  in  the  direction 
from  which  they  had  come.  The  two  who  had 
passed  heard  the  firing  and  made  their  escape. 

The  Indians  that  were  killed  were  scalped,  and 
we  appropriated  their  arms  and  equipment. 
Then,  after  catching  the  horses,  we  made  our  way 
into  the  Post.  The  soldiers  had  heard  us  firing, 
and  as  we  entered  the  fort  drums  were  beating 
and  the  buglers  were  sounding  the  call  to  fall 
in.  The  officers  had  thought  Satanta  and  his 
warriors  were  coming  in  to  capture  the  fort. 

That  very  morning,  two  hours  after  General 
Hazen  had  left,  the  old  chief  drove  into  the  Post 
in  an  ambulance  which  he  had  received  some 
months  before  from  the  Government.  He  seemed 
angry  and  bent  on  mischief.  In  an  interview 
with  Captain  Parker,  the  ranking  officer,  he  asked 
why  General  Hazen  had  left  the  fort  without  sup- 
plying him  with  beef  cattle.  The  captain  said 
the  cattle  were  then  on  the  road,  but  could  not 
explain  why  they  were  delayed. 

The  chief  made  numerous  threats.  He  said 
that  if  he  wanted  to  he  could  capture  the  whole 
Post.  Captain  Parker,  who  was  a  brave  man, 
gave  him  to  understand  that  he  was  reckoning 
beyond  his  powers.    Satanta  finally  left  in  anger. 


BUFFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STORY      133 

Going  to  the  sutler's  store,  lie  sold  his  ambulance 
to  the  post-trader,  and  a  part  of  the  proceeds 
he  secretly  invested  in  whisky,  which  could  always 
be  secured  by  the  Indians  from  rascally  Imen 
about  a  Post,  notwithstanding  the  military  and 
civil  laws. 

He  then  mounted  his  horse  and  rode  rapidly 
to  his  village.  He  returned  in  an  hour  with  seven 
or  eight  hundred  of  his  warriors,  and  it  looked 
as  if  he  intended  to  carry  out  his  threat  of  cap- 
turing the  fort.  The  garrison  at  once  turned  out. 
The  redskins,  when  within  a  half  mile,  began 
circling  around  the  fort,  firing  several  shots  into  it. 

While  this  circling  movement  was  taking  place, 
the  soldiers  observed  that  the  whole  village  had 
packed  up  and  was  on  the  move.  The  mounted 
warriors  remained  behind  some  little  time,  to 
give  their  families  an  opportunity  to  get  away. 
At  last  they  circled  the  Post  several  times  more, 
fired  a  few  parting  shots,  and  then  galloped  over 
the  prairie  to  overtake  the  fast-departing  village. 
On  their  way  they  surprised  and  killed  a  party 
of  woodchoppers  on  Pawnee  Fork,  as  well  as  a 
party  of  herders  guarding  beef  cattle. 

The  soldiers  with  the  wagon  I  had  opportunely 
met  at  the  crossing  had  been  out  looking  for  the 
bodies  of  these  victims,  seven  or  eight  in  all. 
Under  the  circumstances  it  was  not  surprising 
that  the  report  of  our  guns  should  have  persuaded 
the  garrison  that  Satanta's  men  were  coming 
back  to  make  their  threatened  assault. 

There  was  much  excitement  at  the  Post.    The 


134      BUFFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STOEY 

guards  had  been  doubled.  Captain  Parker  had 
all  the  scouts  at  his  headquarters.  He  was  seek- 
ing to  get  one  of  them  to  take  dispatches  to  Gen- 
eral Sheridan  at  Fort  Hays.  I  reported  to  him 
at  once,  telling  him  of  my  encounter  and  my 
escape. 

**You  were  lucky  to  think  of  that  cattle  story, 
Cody,''  he  said.  ^^But  for  that  little  game  your 
scalp  would  now  be  ornamenting  a  Kiowa  lodge. ' ' 

**Cody,"  put  in  Dick  Curtis,  ^'the  captain  is 
trying  to  get  somebody  to  take  dispatches  to  Gen- 
eral Sheridan.  None  of  the  scouts  here  seem 
willing  to  undertake  the  trip.  They  say  they  are 
not  well  enough  acquainted  with  the  country  to 
find  the  way  at  night." 

A  storm  was  coming  up,  and  it  was  sure  to 
be  a  dark  night.  Not  only  did  the  scouts  fear 
they  would  lose  the  way,  but,  with  hostile  In- 
dians all  about,  the  undertaking  was  exceedingly 
dangerous.  A  large  party  of  redskins  was  known 
to  be  encamped  at  Walnut  Creek,  on  the  direct 
road  to  Fort  Hays. 

Observing  that  Curtis  was  obviously  trying  to 
induce  me  to  volunteer,  I  made  an  evasive  an- 
swer. I  was  wearied  from  my  long  day's  ride, 
and  the  beating  I  received  from  the  Indians  had 
not  rested  me  any.  But  Curtis  was  persistent. 
He  said: 

**I  wish  you  were  not  so  tired.  Bill.  You  know 
the  country  better  than  the  rest  of  us.  I  'm  certain 
you  could  go  through." 

**As  far  as  the  ride  is  concerned,"  I  said,  ''that 


BUFFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STOEY      135 

would  not  matter.  But  this  is  risky  business  just 
now,  with  the  country  full  of  hostile  Indians. 
Still,  if  no  other  man  will  volunteer  I  will  chance 
it,  provided  I  am  supplied  with  a  good  horse.  I 
am  tired  of  dodging  Indians  on  a  Government 
mule. ' ' 

At  this,  Captain  Nolan,  who  had  been  listening, 
said: 

**Bill,  you  can  have  the  best  horse  in  my  com- 
pany.'' 

I  picked  the  horse  ridden  by  Captain  Nolan's 
first  sergeant.  To  the  captain's  inquiry  as  to 
whether  I  was  sure  I  could  find  my  way,  I  re- 
plied: 

**I  have  hunted  on  every  acre  of  ground  be- 
tween here  and  Fort  Hays.  I  can  almost  keep 
my  route  by  the  bones  of  the  dead  buffaloes." 

** Never  fear  about  Cody,  captain,"  Curtis 
added;  **he  is  as  good  in  the  dark  as  he  is  in 
the  daylight." 

By  ten  o'clock  that  night  I  was  on  my  way  to 
Fort  Hays,  sixty-five  miles  distant  across  the 
country. 

It  was  pitch-dark,  but  this  I  liked,  as  it  les- 
sened the  probability  of  the  Indians'  seeing  me 
unless  I  stumbled  on  them  by  accident.  My  great- 
est danger  was  that  my  horse  might  run  into  a 
hole  and  fall,  and  in  this  way  get  away  from  me. 
To  avoid  any  such  accident  I  tied  one  end  of 
my  rawhide  lariat  to  my  belt  and  the  other  to 
the  bridle.  I  did  not  propose  to  be  left  alone, 
on  foot,  on  that  prairie. 


136      BUFFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STOEY 

Before  I  had  traveled  three  miles  the  horse, 
sure  enough,  stepped  into  a  prairie  dog's  hole. 
Down  he  went,  throwing  me  over  his  head.  He 
sprang  to  his  feet  before  I  could  catch  the  bridle, 
and  galloped  away  into  the  darkness.  But  when 
he  reached  the  end  of  his  lariat  he  discovered 
that  he  was  picketed  to  Bison  William.  I  brought 
him  up  standing,  recovered  my  gun,  which  had 
fallen  to  the  ground,  and  was  soon  in  the  saddle 
again. 

Twenty-five  miles  from  Fort  Larned  the  coun- 
try became  rougher,  and  I  had  to  travel  more 
carefully.  Also  I  proceeded  as  quietly  as  possi- 
ble, for  I  knew  I  was  in  the  vicinity  of  the  Indians 
who  had  been  lately  encamped  on  Walnut  Creek. 
But  when  I  came  up  near  the  creek  I  unexpectedly 
rode  in  among  a  herd  of  horses.  The  animals 
became  frightened,  and  ran  off  in  all  directions. 
Without  pausing  to  make  any  apology,  I  backed 
out  as  quickly  as  possible.  But  just  at  that  min- 
ute a  dog,  not  fifty  yards  away,  set  up  a  howl. 
Soon  I  heard  Indians  talking.  They  had  been 
guarding  the  horses,  and  had  heard  the  hoofbeats 
of  my  horse.  In  an  instant  they  were  on  their 
ponies  and  after  me. 

I  urged  my  mount  to  full  speed  up  the  creek 
bottom,  taking  chances  of  his  falling  into  a  hole. 
The  Indians  followed  me  as  fast  as  they  could, 
but  I  soon  outdistanced  them. 

I  struck  the  old  Santa  Fe  trail  ten  miles  from 
Fort  Hays  just  at  daybreak.  Shortly  after  reveille 
I  rode  into  the  post,  where  Colonel  Moore,  tq 


BUFFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STOKY      137 

whom  I  reported,  asked  for  the  dispatches  from 
Captain  Parker  for  General  Sheridan.  He  asked 
me  to  give  them  into  his  hands,  but  I  said  I  pre- 
ferred to  hand  them  to  the  general  in  person. 
Sheridan,  who  was  sleeping  in  the  same  building, 
heard  our  voices  and  bade  me  come  into  his  room. 

' '  HeUo,  Cody ! ' '  he  said.    ' '  Is  that  you  r ' 

**Yes,  sir,*'  I  said.  **I  have  dispatches  for 
you. ' ' 

He  read  them  hurriedly,  told  me  they  were  very 
important,  and  asked  all  about  the  outbreak  of 
the  Kiowas  and  Comanches.  I  gave  him  aJl  the 
information  I  possessed. 

**Bill,"  said  General  Sheridan,  **youVe  had  a 
pretty  lively  ride.  I  suppose  you're  tired  after 
your  long  journey." 

*^Not  very,"  I  said. 

**Come  in  and  have  breakfast  with  me." 

**No,  thank  you.  Hays  City  is  only  a  mile  from 
here.  I  know  every  one  there  and  want  to  go 
over  and  have  a  time." 

**Very  well,  do  as  you  please,  but  come  back 
this  afternoon,  for  I  want  to  see  you." 

I  got  little  rest  at  Hays  City,  and  yet  I  was 
soon  to  set  out  on  another  hard  ninety-five-naile 
journey. 


CHAPTER  V 

When  I  rode  back  to  General  Sheridan's  head- 
quarters, after  a  visit  with  old  friends  at  Hays 
City,  I  noticed  several  scouts  in  a  little  group 
engaged  in  conversation  on  some  important  topic. 
Upon  inquiry  I  learned  that  General  Sheridan 
wanted  a  dispatch  sent  to  Fort  Dodge,  a  distance 
of  ninety-five  miles. 

The  Indians  had  recently  killed  two  or  three 
men  engaged  in  carrying  dispatches  over  this 
route.  On  this  account  none  of  the  scouts  were 
at  all  anxious  to  volunteer.  A  reward  of  several 
hundred  dollars  had  failed  to  secure  any  takers. 

The  scouts  had  heard  of  what  I  had  done  the 
day  before.  They  asked  me  if  I  did  not  think 
the  journey  to  Fort  Dodge  dangerous.  I  gave 
as  my  opinion  that  a  man  might  possibly  go 
through  without  seeing  an  Indian,  but  that  the 
chances  were  ten  to  one  that  he  would  have  an 
exceedingly  lively  run  before  he  reached  his  des- 
tination, provided  he  got  there  at  all. 

Leaving  the  scouts  arguing  as  to  whether  any 
of  them  would  undertake  the  venture,  I  reported 
to  General  Sheridan.  He  informed  me  that  he 
was  looking  for  a  man  to  carry  dispatches  to 
Fort  Dodge,  and,  while  we  were  talking,  Dick 
Parr,  his  chief  of  scouts,  came  in  to  inform  him 
that  none  of  his  scouts  would  volunteer. 

188 


BUFFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STOKY      139 

TTpon  hearing  this,  I  said: 

** General,  if  no  one  is  ready  to  volunteer,  I'll 
carry  your  dispatches  myself." 

**I  had  not  thought  of  asking  you  to  do  this, 
Cody, ' '  said  the  general.  *  *  You  are  already  pretty 
hard-worked.  But  it  is  really  important  that  these 
dispatches  should  go  through." 

**If  you  don't  get  a  courier  before  four  this 
afternoon,  I'll  be  ready  for  business,"  I  told  him. 
*^A11 1  want  is  a  fresh  horse.  Meanwhile  I'll  get 
a  little  more  rest." 

It  was  not  much  of  a  rest,  however,  that  I  got. 
I  went  over  to  Hays  City  and  had  a  **time"  with 
the  boys.  Coming  back  to  the  Post  at  the  ap- 
pointed hour,  I  found  that  no  scout  had  volun- 
teered. I  reported  to  the  general,  who  had  secured 
an  excellent  horse  for  me.  Handing  me  the  dis- 
patches, he  said : 

**You  can  start  as  soon  as  you  wish.  The 
sooner  the  better.  And  good  luck  to  you,  my 
boy!" 

An  hour  later  I  was  on  my  way.  At  dusk  I 
crossed  the  Smoky  Hill  Eiver.  I  did  not  urge 
my  horse  much,  as  I  was  saving  him  for  the 
latter  end  of  the  journey,  or  for  any  run  I  might 
have  to  make  should  the  **wild  boys"  jump 
me. 

Though  I  kept  a  sharp  watch  through  the  night 
I  saw  no  Indians,  and  had  no  adventures  worth 
relating.  Just  at  daylight  I  found  myself  ap- 
proaching Saw  Log  River,  having  ridden  about 
seventy-five  miles. 


140      BUFFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STORY 

A  company  of  colored  cavalry,  under  command 
of  Major  Cox,  was  stationed  at  this  point.  I 
approached  the  camp  cautiously.  The  darky  sol- 
diers had  a  habit  of  shooting  first  and  crying 
**Halt!"  afterward.  When  I  got  within  hearing 
distance  I  called  out,  and  was  answered  by  one 
of  the  pickets.  I  shouted  to  him  not  to  shoot, 
informing  him  that  I  carried  dispatches  from 
Fort  Hays.  Then,  calling  the  sergeant  of  the 
guard,  I  went  up  to  the  vidette,  who  at  once  rec- 
ognized me,  and  took  me  to  the  tent  of  Major 
Cox. 

This  officer  supplied  me  with  a  fresh  horse, 
as  requested  by  General  Sheridan  in  a  letter  I 
brought  to  him.  After  an  hour's  sleep  and  a 
meal,  I  jumped  into  the  saddle,  and  before  sunrise 
was  on  my  way.  I  reached  Fort  Dodge,  twenty- 
five  miles  further  on,  between  nine  and  ten  o  'clock 
without  having  seen  a  single  Indian. 

When  I  had  delivered  my  dispatches,  Johnny 
Austin,  an  old  friend,  who  was  chief  of  scouts 
at  the  Post,  invited  me  to  come  to  his  house  for 
a  nap.  When  I  awoke  Austin  told  me  there  had 
been  Indians  all  around  the  Post.  He  was  very 
much  surprised  that  I  had  seen  none  of  thenou 
They  had  run  off  cattle  and  horses,  and  occa- 
sionally killed  a  man.  Indians,  he  said,  were  also 
very  thick  on  the  Arkansas  River  between  Fort 
Dodge  and  Fort  Lamed,  and  had  made  consider- 
able trouble.  The  commanding  officer  of  Fort 
Dodge  was  very  anxious  to  send  dispatches  to 
Fort  Lamed,  but  the  scouts,  like  those  at  Fort 


BUFFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STOEY      141 

Hays,  were  backward  about  volunteering.  Fort 
Lamed  was  my  Post,  and  I  wanted  to  go  there 
anyhow.  So  I  told  Austin  I  would  carry  the  dis- 
patches, and  if  any  of  the  boys  wanted  to  go 
along  I  would  be  glad  of  their  company.  This 
offer  was  reported  to  the  commanding  officer. 
He  sent  for  me,  and  said  he  would  be  glad  to  have 
me  take  the  dispatches,  if  I  could  stand  the  trip 
after  what  I  had  already  done. 

*^A11 1  want  is  a  fresh  horse,  sir,"  said  L 

*^I  am  sorry  we  haven't  a  decent  horse,"  he 
replied,  *'but  we  have  a  reliable  and  honest  Gov- 
ernment mule,  if  that  will  do  you." 

**Trot  out  the  mule,"  I  told  him.  **It  is  good 
enough  for  me.    I  am  ready  at  any  time. ' ' 

The  mule  was  forthcoming.  At  dark  I  pulled 
out  for  Fort  Lamed,  and  proceeded  without  in- 
terruption to  Coon  Creek,  thirty  miles  from  Fort 
Dodge.  I  had  left  the  wagon  road  some  distance 
to  the  south,  and  traveled  parallel  to  it.  This  I 
decided  would  be  the  safer  course,  as  the  Indians 
might  be  lying  in  watch  for  dispatch-bearers  and 
scouts  along  the  main  road. 

At  Coon  Creek  I  dismounted  and  led  the  mule 
down  to  the  river  to  get  a  drink  of  water.  While 
I  was  drinking  the  brute  jerked  loose  and  struck 
out  down  the  creek.  I  followed  him,  trusting  that 
he  would  catch  his  foot  in  the  bridle  rein  and  stop, 
but  he  made  straight  for  the  wagon  road,  where  I 
feared  Indians  would  be  lurking,  without  a  pause. 
At  last  he  struck  the  road,  but  instead  of  turning 
back  toward  Fort  Dodge  he  headed  for  Fort 


142      BUFFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STOEY 

Larned,  keeping  up  a  jogtrot  that  was  just  too 
fast  to  permit  me  to  overtake  him. 

I  had  my  gun  in  hand,  and  was  sorely  tempted 
to  shoot  him  more  than  once,  and  probably  would 
have  done  so  but  for  the  fear  of  bringing  the 
Indians  down  on  me.  But  he  was  going  my  way, 
so  I  trudged  along  after  him  mile  after  mile,  in- 
dulging from  time  to  time  in  strong  language  re- 
garding the  entire  mule  fraternity.  The  mule 
stuck  to  the  road  and  kept  on  for  Fort  Larned, 
and  I  did  the  same  thing.  The  distance  was  thirty- 
five  miles.  As  day  was  beginning  to  break,  we 
— ^the  mule  and  myself — found  ourselves  on  a  hill 
looking  down  on  the  Pawnee  Fork,  on  which  Fort 
Larned  was  located,  only  four  miles  away.  When 
the  sunrise  gun  sounded  we  were  within  half  a 
mile  of  the  Post. 

I  was  thoroughly  out  of  patience  by  this  time. 

''Now,  Mr.  Mule,''  I  said,  ''it  is  my  turn,"  and 
threw  my  gun  to  my  shoulder.  Like  the  majority 
of  Government  mules,  he  was  not  easy  to  kill. 
He  died  hard,  but  he  died. 

Hearing  the  report  of  the  gun,  the  troops  came 
rushing  out  to  see  what  was  the  matter.  When 
they  heard  my  story  they  agreed  that  the  mule 
had  got  no  more  than  his  deserts.  I  took  the 
saddle  and  bridle  and  proceeded  to  the  Post, 
where  I  delivered  my  dispatches  to  Captain 
Parker.  I  then  went  to  Dick  Curtis 's  house  at 
the  scouts'  headquarters  and  put  in  several  hours 
of  solid  sleep. 

During  the  day  General  Hazen  returned  from 


BUFFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STORY      143 

Fort  Harker.  He  had  important  dispatches  to 
send  to  General  Sheridan.  I  was  feeling  highly- 
elated  over  my  ride,  and  as  I  was  breaking  the 
scout  records  I  volunteered  for  this  mission. 

The  general  accepted  my  offer,  though  he  said 
there  was  no  necessity  of  my  killing  myself.  I 
said  I  had  business  which  called  me  to  Fort  Hays, 
anyway,  and  that  it  would  make  no  difference 
to  the  other  scouts  if  he  gave  me  the  job,  as  none 
of  them  were  particularly  eager  for  the  journey. 

Accordingly,  that  night,  I  mounted  an  excellent 
horse,  and  next  morning  at  daylight  reached  Gen- 
eral Sheridan's  headquarters  at  Fort  Hays. 

The  general  was  surprised  to  see  me,  and  still 
more  so  when  I  told  him  of  the  time  I  had  made 
on  the  rides  I  had  successfully  undertaken.  I  be- 
lieve this  record  of  mine  has  never  been  beaten 
in  a  country  infested  with  Indians  and  subject 
to  blizzards  and  other  violent  weather  condi- 
tions. 

'  To  sum  up,  I  had  ridden  from  Fort  Larned 
to. Fort  Zarrah,  a  distance  of  sixty-five  miles  and 
back  in  twelve  hours.  Ten  miles  must  be  added 
to  this  for  the  distance  the  Indians  took  me  across 
the  Arkansas  River.  In  the  succeeding  twenty- 
four  hours  I  had  gone  from  Fort  Larned  to  Fort 
Hays,  sixty-five  miles,  in  eight  hours.  During 
the  next  twenty-four  hours  I  rode  from  Fort  Hays 
to  Fort  Dodge,  ninety-five  miles.  The  following 
night  I  traveled  from  Fort  Dodge  to  Fort  Larned, 
thirty  miles  on  mule  back  and  thirty-five  miles 
on  foot,  in  twelve  hours,  and  the  next  night  sixty^ 


144      BUFFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STORY 

five  miles  more  from  Fort  Lamed  to  Fort  Hays. 

Altogether  I  had  ridden  and  walked  three  hun- 
dred and  sixty-five  miles  in  fifty-eight  hours,  an 
average  of  over  six  miles  an  hour. 

Taking  into  consideration  the  fact  that  most 
of  this  riding  was  done  in  the  night  over  wild 
country,  with  no  roads  to  follow,  and  that  I  had 
continually  to  look  out  for  Indians,  it  was  re- 
garded at  the  time  as  a  big  ride  as  well  as  a 
dangerous  one. 

What  I  have  set  down  here  concerning  it  can 
be  verified  by  referring  to  the  autobiography  of 
General  Sheridan. 

General  Sheridan  complimented  me  highly  on 
this  achievement.  He  told  me  I  need  not  report 
back  to  General  Hazen,  as  he  had  more  important 
work  for  me  to  do.  The  Fifth  Cavalry,  one  of 
the  finest  regiments  of  the  army,  was  on  its  way 
to  the  Department  of  the  Missouri,  and  he  was 
going  to  send  an  expedition  against  the  Dog  Sol- 
dier Indians  who  were  infesting  the  Republican 
River  region. 

**Cody,''  he  said,  ^^I  am  going  to  appoint  you 
guide  and  chief  of  scouts  of  the  command.  How 
does  that  suit  youT' 

I  told  him  it  suited  me  first  rate  and  thanked 
him  for  the  honor. 

The  Dog  Soldier  Indians  were  a  band  of 
Cheyennes  and  of  unruly,  turbulent  members  of 
other  tribes  who  would  not  enter  into  any  treaty, 
and  would  have  kept  no  treaty  if  they  had  made 
one.    They  had  always  refused  to  go  on  a  reserva- 


BUFFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STOKT      145 

tion.  They  got  their  name  from  the  word 
** Cheyenne,''  which  is  derived  from  chien,  the 
French  word  for  **dog." 

On  the  third  of  October  the  Fifth  Cavalry 
arrived  at  Fort  Hays,  and  I  at  once  began  mak- 
ing the  acquaintance  of  the  members  of  the  regi- 
ment. General  Sheridan  introduced  me  to  Colonel 
Eoyal,  the  commander,  whom  I  found  a  gallant 
officer  and  an  agreeable  gentleman.  I  also  be- 
came acquainted  with  Major  W.  H.  Brown,  Major 
Walker,  Captain  Sweetman,  Quartermaster  E.  M. 
Hays,  and  many  others  of  the  men  with  whom 
I  was  soon  to  be  associated. 

General  Sheridan,  being  anxious  to  punish  the 
Indians  who  had  lately  fought  General  Forsythe, 
did  not  give  the  regiment  much  of  a  rest.  On 
October  5th  it  began  the  march  to  Beaver  Creek 
country. 

The  first  night  we  camped  on  the  south  fork 
of  Big  Creek,  four  miles  west  of  Hays  City.  By 
this  time  I  had  become  well  acquainted  with  Major 
Brown  and  Captain  Sweetman.  They  invited  me 
to  mess  with  them,  and  a  jolly  mess  we  had. 
There  were  other  scouts  with  .the  command  be- 
sides myself.  I  particularly  remember  Tom 
Kenahan,  Hank  Fields,  and  a  character  called 
*  *  Nosey. ' ' 

The  morning  of  the  6th  we  pulled  out  to  the 
north.  During  the  day  I  was  particularly  struck 
with  the  appearance  of  the  regiment.  It  was  a 
beautiful  command,  and  when  strung  out  on  the 
prairies   with  a  train  of  seventy-five   six-mule 


146      BUFFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STOKY 

wagons,  ambulances,  and  pack-mnles,  I  felt  very 
proud  of  my  position  as  guide  and  chief  of  scouts 
with  such  a  warlike  expedition. 

Just  as  we  were  going  into  camp  on  the  Saline 
Eiver  that  night  we  ran  into  a  band  of  some 
fifteen  Indians.  They  saw  us,  and  dashed  across 
the  creek,  followed  by  some  bullets  which  we  sent 
after  them. 

This  little  band  proved  to  be  only  a  scouting 
party,  so  we  followed  it  only  a  mile  or  two.  Our 
attention  was  directed  shortly  to  a  herd  of  buf- 
faloes, and  we  killed  ten  or  fifteen  for  the  com- 
mand. 

Next  day  we  marched  thirty  miles.  When  we 
went  into  camp  Colonel  Eoyal  asked  me  to  go 
out  and  kill  some  buffaloes  for  the  boys. 

**A11  right,  colonel,"  I  said;  **send  along  a 
wagon  to  bring  in  the  meat.'' 

*  *  I  am  not  in  the  habit  of  sending  out  my  wagons 
till  I  know  there  is  something  to  be  hauled  in," 
he  said.  **Kill  your  buffaloes  first,  and  I'll  send 
the  wagons." 

Without  further  words  I  went  out  on  my  hunt. 
After  a  short  absence  I  returned  and  asked  the 
colonel  to  send  his  wagons  for  the  half-dozen 
buffaloes  I  had  killed. 

The  following  afternoon  he  again  requested  me 
to  go  out  after  buffaloes.  I  didn't  ask  for  any 
wagons  this  time,  but  rode  out  some  distance,  and, 
coming  upon  a  small  herd,  headed  seven  or  eight 
of  them  directly  for  the  camp.  Instead  of  shoot- 
ing them  I  ran  them  at  full  speed  right  into  the 


BUFFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STORY      147 

place  and  then  killed  tliem  one  after  another  in 
rapid  succession. 

Colonel  Royal,  who  witnessed  the  whole  pro- 
ceeding, was  annoyed  and  puzzled,  as  he  could 
see  no  good  reason  why  I  had  not  killed  the 
buffaloes  on  the  prairie. 

Coming  up  angry,  he  demanded  an  explana- 
tion. 

**I  can't  allow  any  such  business  as  this,  Cody,'' 
he  exclaimed.    **What  do  you  mean  by  it?" 

**I  didn't  care  about  asking  for  wagons  this 
time.  Colonel,"  I  replied.  **I  thought  I  would 
make  the  buffaloes  furnish  their  own  transporta- 
tion." 

The  colonel  saw  the  force  of  my  defense,  and 
had  no  more  to  say  on  the  subject. 

No  Indians  had  been  seen  in  the  vicinity  during 
the  day.  Colonel  Royal,  having  posted  his  pickets, 
supposed  that  everything  was  serene  for  the  night. 
But  before  morning  we  were  aroused  by  shots, 
and  immediately  afterward  one  of  the  mounted 
pickets  came  galloping  into  camp  with  the  an- 
nouncement that  there  were  Indians  close  at  hand. 

All  the  companies  fell  into  line,  prepared  and 
eager  for  action.  The  men  were  still  new  to  In- 
dian fighting.    Many  of  them  were  excited. 

But,  despite  the  alarm,  no  Indians  made  their 
appearance.  Upon  going  to  the  post  where  the 
picket  said  he  had  seen  them,  none  were  to  be 
found,  nor  could  the  faintest  trace  be  discovered. 

The  sentinel,  an  Irishman,  insisted  that  there 
certainly  had  been  redskins  there. 


148      BUFFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STORY 

'*But  you  must  be  mistaken,"  said  the 
colonel. 

**Upon  me  sowl,  I'm  not.  As  sure  as  me  name's 
Pat  Maloney,  wan  iv  them  red  devils  hit  me  on 
th'  head  with  a  club,  so  he  did,"  persisted  the 
picket. 

When  morning  came  we  made  a  successful 
effort  to  clear  up  the  mystery.  Elk  tracks  were 
found  in  the  vicinity,  and  it  was  undoubtedly  a 
herd  of  elk  that  had  frightened  the  picket.  When 
he  turned  to  flee  he  must  have  hit  his  head  on 
an  overhanging  limb,  which  he  supposed  was  the 
club  of  a  redskin,  bent  on  his  murder.  It  was 
hard,  however,  to  convince  him  that  he  could  have 
been  mistaken.    ^ 

Three  days '  march  brought  us  to  Beaver  Creek, 
where  we  encamped  and  where  scouts  were  sent 
out  in  different  directions.  None  of  these  parties 
discovered  Indians,  and  they  all  returned  to  camp 
at  about  the  same  time.  They  found  it  in  a  state 
of  excitement.  A  few  hours  before  the  return 
of  the  scouts  the  camp  had  been  attacked  by  a 
party  of  redskins,  who  had  killed  two  men  and 
made  off  with  sixty  horses  belonging  to  Com- 
pany H. 

That  evening  the  command  started  on  the  trail 
of  the  horse  thieves.  Major  Brown  with  two  com- 
panies and  three  days'  rations  pushed  ahead  in 
advance  of  the  main  command.  On  the  eighteenth 
day  out,  being  unsuccessful  in  the  chase,  and 
nearly  out  of  rations,  the  entire  command  marched 
toward  the  nearest  railroad  station  and  camped 


BUFFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STORY      149 

on  the  Saline  River,  three  miles  distant  from 
Buffalo  Tank. 

While  waiting  for  supplies  we  were  joined  by 
a  new  commanding  officer,  Brevet-Major-General 
E.  A.  Carr,  who  was ,  the  senior  major  of  the 
regiment  and  ranked  Colonel  Royal.  He  brought 
with  him  the  celebrated  Forsythe  Scouts,  who  were 
commanded  by  Lieutenant  Pepoon,  a  regular-army 
officer. 

While  in  this  camp.  Major  Brown  welcomed  a 
new  lieutenant,  who  had  come  to  fill  a  vacancy  in 
the  command.  This  was  A.  B.  Bache,  and  on  the 
day  he  was  to  arrive  Major  Brown  had  his  pri- 
vate ambulance  brought  out  and  invited  me  to  ride 
with  him  to  the  railroad  station  to  meet  the  lieu- 
tenant.    On  the  way  to  the  depot  he  said: 

**Now,  Cody,  we'll  give  Bache  a  lively  little 
ride,  and  shake  him  up  a  little.'' 

The  new  arrival  was  given  a  back  seat  in  the 
ambulance  when  he  got  off  the  train,  and  we 
headed  for  the  camp. 

Presently  Major  Brown  took  the  reins  from  his 
driver  and  at  once  began  whipping  the  mules. 
When  he  had  got  them  into  a  lively  gallop  he 
pulled  out  his  revolver  and  fired  several  shots. 
The  road  was  terribly  rough  and  the  night  was 
intensely  dark.  We  could  not  see  where  we  were 
going,  and  it  was  a  wonderful  piece  of  luck  that 
the  wagon  did  not  tip  over  and  break  our  necks. 

Finally  Bache  asked,  good-humoredly : 

**Is  this  the  way  you  break  in  all  your  new 
lieutenants,  Major!" 


150      BUFFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STOKY 

**01i,  no,"  returned  the  major.  ^^But  this  is 
the  way  we  often  ride  in  this  country.  Keep  your 
seat,  Mr.  Bache,  and  we'll  take  you  through  on 
time,"  he  quoted,  from  Hank  Monk's  famous  ad- 
monition to  Horace  Greeley. 

We  were  now  rattling  down  a  steep  hill  at  full 
speed.  Just  as  we  reached  the  bottom,  the  front 
wheels  struck  a  deep  ditch  over  which  the  mules 
had  jumped.  We  were. all  brought  up  standing, 
and  Bache  plunged  forward  headlong  to  the  front 
of  the  vehicle. 

**Take  the  back  seat,  lieutenant,"  said  Major 
Brown  sternly. 

Bache  replied  that  he  had  been  trying  to  do  so, 
keeping  his  nerve  and  his  temper.  We  soon  got 
the  wagon  out  of  the  ditch  and  resumed  our  drive. 
We  swung  into  camp  under  full  headway,  and 
created  considerable  amusement.  Everyone  rec- 
ognized the  ambulance,  and  knew  that  Major 
Brown  and  I  were  out  for  a  lark,  so  little  was 
said  about  the  exploit. 

Next  morning  at  an  early  hour  the  command 
started  out  on  another  Indian  hunt.  General  Carr, 
who  had  a  pretty  good  idea  where  he  would  be 
likely  to  find  them,  directed  me  to  guide  him  by 
the  nearest  route  to  Elephant  Fork,  on  Beaver 
Creek. 

When  we  arrived  at  the  South  Fork  of  the 
Beaver,  after  two  days'  march,  we  discovered  a 
fresh  Indian  trail.  We  had  followed  it  hurriedly 
for  eight  miles  when  we  discovered,  on  a  bluff 
ahead,  a  large  number  of  Indians. 


BUFFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STOEY      151 

General  Carr  ordered  Lieutenant  Pepoon's 
scouts  and  Company  M  to  the  front.  Company  M 
was  commanded  by  Lieutenant  Schinosky,  a  reck- 
less dare-devil  bom  in  France,  who  was  eager  for 
a  brush  with  the  Indians. 

In  his  anxiety  to  get  into  the  fight  he  pushed 
his  company  nearly  a  mile  in  advance  of  the  main 
command,  when  he  was  jumped  by  some  four  hun- 
dred Indians.  Until  our  main  force  could  come 
to  his  support  he  had  as  lively  a  little  fight  as 
any  one  could  have  asked  for. 

As  the  battle  proceeded,  the  Indians  continued 
to  increase  in  numbers.  At  last  it  became  appar- 
ent that  we  were  fighting  eight  hundred  or  a  thou- 
sand of  them.  The  engagement  was  general. 
There  were  killed  and  wounded  on  both  sides. 
The  Indians  were  obviously  fighting  to  give  their 
families  and  village  a  chance  to  get  away.  We 
had  surprised  them  with  a  larger  force  than  they 
knew  was  in  that  part  of  the  country.  The  battle 
continued  steadily  until  dark.  We  drove  them 
before  us,  but  they  fought  stubbornly.  At  night 
they  annoyed  us  by  firing  down  into  our  camp 
from  the  encircling  hills.  Several  times  it  was 
necessary  to  order  out  the  command  to  dislodge 
them  and  to  drive  them  back  where  they  could 
do  no  damage. 

After  one  of  these  sallies.  Captain  Sweetman, 
Lieutenant  Bache,  and  myself  were  taking  supper 
together  when  ** Whang!''  came  a  bullet  into  Mr. 
Bache 's  plate.  We  .finished  our  supper  without 
having  any  more  such  close  calls. 


152      BUFFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STOKY 

At  daylight  next  morning  we  took  the  trail 
again,  soon  reaching  the  spot  where  the  Indians 
had  camped  the  night  before.  Here  there  had 
been  a  large  village,  consisting  of  five  hundred 
lodges.  Continuing  our  pursuit,  we  came  in  sight 
of  the  retreating  village  at  two  in  the  afternoon. 
At  once  the  warriors  turned  back  and  gave  us 
battle. 

To  delay  us  as  much  as  possible  they  set  fire 
to  the  prairie  grass  in  front  and  on  all  sides  of 
us.  For  the  remainder  of  the  afternoon  we  kept 
up  a  running  fight.  Eepeatedly  the  Indians  at- 
tempted to  lead  us  away  from  the  trail  of  their 
fleeing  village.  But  their  trail  was  easily  followed 
by  the  tepee  poles,  camp-kettles,  robes,  and 
all  the  paraphernalia  which  proved  too  heavy  ta 
carry  for  long,  and  which  were  dropped  in  the 
flight.  It  was  useless  to  try  to  follow  them  after 
,  nightfall,  and  at  dark  we  went  into  camp. 

Next  morning  we  were  again  on  the  trail,  which 
led  north  and  back  toward  Beaver  Creek.  The 
trail  crossed  this  stream  a  few  miles  from  where 
we  had  first  discovered  the  Indians.  They  had 
made  almost  a  complete  circle  in  the  hope  of  mis- 
leading us. 

Late  in  the  afternoon  we  again  saw  them  going 
over  a  hill  far  ahead.  Toward  evening  the  main 
body  of  warriors  once  more  came  back  and  fought 
us,  but  we  continued  to  drive  them  till  dusk,  when 
:we  encamped  for  the  night. 

Soon  the  Indians,  finding  they  could  not  hold 
put  against  us,  scattered  in  every  direction.    We 


BUFFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STORY      153 

followed  the  main  trail  to  the  Republican  River, 
where  we  made  a  cut-off  and  proceeded  north. to- 
ward the  Platte. 

Here  we  found  that  the  Indians,  traveling  day 
and  night,  had  got  a  long  start.  General  Carr 
decided  we  had  pushed  them  so  hard  and  given 
them  such  a  thorough  scaring  that  they  would 
leave  the  Republican  country  and  go  north  across 
the  railroad.  It  seemed,  therefore,  unnecessary 
to  pursue  them  any  further.  Most  of  the  In- 
dians did  cross  the  river  near  Ogallah  as  he  pre- 
dicted, and  thence  continued  northward. 

That  night  we  returned  to  the  Republican  River 
and  camped  in  a  grove  of  cottonwoods,  which  I 
named  Carres  Grove  in  honor  of  our  commander. 

General  Carr  informed  me  that  the  next  day's 
march  would  be  toward  the  headwaters  of  the 
Beaver.  I  said  that  the  distance  was  about 
twenty-five  miles,  and  he  said  we  would  make  it 
the  next  day.  Getting  an  early  start  in  the  morn- 
ing, we  struck  out  across  the  prairie.  My  posi- 
tion, as  guide,  was  the  advance  guard.  About 
two  o'clock  General  Carr  overtook  me  and  asked 
me  how  far  I  supposed  it  was  to  water.  I  replied 
that  I  thought  it  was  about  eight  miles,  although 
we  could  see  no  sign  of  a  stream  ahead. 

'^Pepoon's  scouts  say  you  are  traveling  in  the 
wrong  direction,"  said  the  general.  *^They  say, 
the  way  you  are  bearing,  it  will  be  fifteen  miles 
before  we  strike  any  branches  of  the  Beaver,  and 
that  when  you  do  you  will  find  no  water,  for  they 
are  dry  at  this  season  of  the  year  in  this  locality." 


154      BUFFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STORY 

*'I  think  the  scouts  are  mistaken,  General,"  I 
said.  *  *  The  Beaver  has  more  water  near  its  head 
than  it  has  below.  At  the  place  where  we  will 
strike  the  stream  we  will  find  immense  beaver 
dams,  big  and  strong  enough  to  cross  your  whole 
command  if  you  wish. ' ' 

**Well,  go  ahead,"  he  said.  ^'I  leave  it  to  you. 
But,  remember,  I  don't  want  a  dry  camp." 

**No  danger  of  that,"  I  returned  and  rode  on. 
As  I  predicted,  we  found  water  seven  or  eight 
miles  further  on.  Hidden  in  the  hills  was  a  beau- 
tiful little  tributary  of  the  Beaver.  "We  had  no 
trouble  in  selecting  a  fine  camp  with  good  spring 
water  and  excellent  grass.  Learning  that  the 
stream,  which  was  but  eight  miles  long,  was  with- 
out a  name,  the  general  took  out  his  map,  and, 
locating  it,  christened  it  Cody's  Creek,  which  name 
it  still  bears. 

Early  the  next  morning  we  pulled  out  for  the 
Beaver.  As  we  were  approaching  the  stream  I 
rode  on  ahead  of  the  advance  guard  in  order 
to  find  a  crossing.  Just  as  I  turned  a  bend  of 
the  creek  **Bang!"  went  a  shot,  and  down  went 
my  horse,  accompanied  by  myself. 

I  disentangled  myself  and  jumped  clear  of  the 
carcass,  turning  my  guns  loose  at  two  Indians 
whom  I  discovered  in  the  direction  from  which 
the  shot  had  come.  In  the  suddenness  of  it  all 
I  missed  my  aim.  The  Indians  fired  two  or  three 
more  shots,  and  I  returned  the  compliment  by 
wounding  one  of  their  horses. 

On  the  other  side  of  the  creek  I  saw  a  few 


BUFFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STORY      155 

lodges  moving  rapidly  away,  and  also  mounted 
warriors.  They  also  saw  me  and  began  blazing 
away  with  their  gnns.  The  Indians  who  had  killed 
my  horse  were  retreating  across  the  creek,  using 
a  beaver  dam  for  a  bridge.  I  accelerated  their 
pace  by  sending  a  few  shots  after  them  and  also 
fired  at  the  warriors  across  the  stream.  I  was 
undecided  as  to  whether  it  would  be  best  to  run 
back  to  the  command  on  foot  or  to  retain  my  posi- 
tion. The  troops,  I  knew,  would  come  up  in  a 
few  minutes.  The  sound  of  the  firing  would  has- 
ten their  arrival. 

The  Indians  soon  saw  that  I  was  alone.  They 
turned  and  charged  down  the  hill,  and  were  about 
to  cross  the  creek  and  corral  me  when  the  ad- 
vance guard  of  the  command  appeared  over  the 
ridge  and  dashed  forward  to  my  rescue.  Then 
the  redskins  whirled  and  made  off. 

When  General  Carr  arrived  he  ordered  Com- 
pany I  to  pursue  the  band.  I  accompanied  Lieu- 
tenant Brady,  who  commanded  the  company.  For 
several  hours  we  had  a  running  fight  with  the  In- 
dians, capturing  several  of  their  horses  and  most 
of  their  lodges.  At  night  we  returned  to  the  com- 
mand, which  by  this  time  had  crossed  the  dam. 

For  several  days  we  scouted  along  the  river. 
We  had  two  or  three  lively  skirmishes,  but  at 
last  our  supplies  began  to  run  low,  and  the  gen- 
eral ordered  us  to  return  to  Fort  Wallace,  which 
we  reached  three  days  afterward. 

While  the  regiment  remained  here,  waiting  for 
orders,  I  spent  most  of  my  time  hunting  buffaloes. 


156      BUFFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STOEY 

One  day  while  I  was  out  with  a  small  party,  fifty 
Indians  jumped  us,  and  we  had  a  terrific  battle 
for  an  hour.  We  finally  managed  to  drive  them 
off,  with  four  of  their  warriors  killed.  With  me 
were  a  number  of  excellent  marksmen,  and  they 
did  fine  work,  sending  bullets  thick  and  fast  where 
they  would  do  the  most  execution. 

Two  or  three  of  our  horses  were  hit.  One  man 
was  wounded.  We  were  ready  and  willing  to  stay 
with  the  Indians  as  long  as  they  would  stay  with 
us.  But  they  gave  it  up  at  last.  We  finished  our 
hunt  and  returned  to  the  Post  with  plenty  of 
buffalo  meat.  Here  we  received  the  compliments 
of  General  Carr  on  our  little  fight. 

In  a  few  days  orders  came  from  General  Sheri- 
dan to  make  a  winter  campaign  in  the  Canadian 
Kiver  country.  We  were  to  proceed  to  Fort  Lyon 
on  the  Arkansas  Kiver  and  fit  out  for  the  expedi- 
tion. Leaving  Fort  Wallace  in  November,  1868, 
we  arrived  at  Fort  Lyon  in  the  latter  part  of  the 
month,  and  began  the  work  of  outfitting. 

Three  weeks  before  this.  General  Penrose  had 
left  the  Post  with  a  command  of  three  hundred 
men.  He  had  taken  no  wagons  with  him.  His 
supply  train  was  composed  of  pack  mules.  Gen- 
eral Carr  was  ordered  to  follow  with  supplies  on 
Penrose's  trail  and  to  overtake  him  as  soon  as 
possible.  I  was  particularly  anxious  to  catch 
up  with  Penrose's  command,  as  my  old  friend, 
**Wild  Bill,"  was  among  his  scouts. 

For  the  first  three  days  we  followed  the  trail 
easily.    Then  we  were  caught  in  Freeze-Out  Canon 


BUFFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STORY      157 

by  a  fearful  snowstorm.  This  compelled  us  to  go 
into  camp  for  a  day. 

It  now  became  impossible  longer  to  follow  Pen- 
rose 's  trail.  The  ground  was  covered  with  snow, 
and  he  had  left  no  sign  to  show  in  which  direc- 
tion he  was  going. 

General  Carr  sent  for  me,  and  told  me  it  was 
highly  important  that  we  should  not  lose  the  trail. 
He  instructed  me  to  take  some  scouts,  and,  while 
the  command  remained  in  camp,  to  push  on  as 
far  as  possible  to  seek  for  some  sign  that  would 
indicate  the  direction  Penrose  had  taken. 

Accompanied  by  four  men,  I  started  out  in  a 
blinding  snowstorm.  We  rode  twenty-four  miles 
in  a  southerly  direction  till  we  reached  a  tribu- 
tary of  the  Cimarron.  From  here  we  scouted  up 
and  down  the  stream  for  a  few  miles,  and  at  last 
turned  up  one  of  Penrose's  old  camps. 

It  was  now  late  in  the  afternoon.  If  the  camp 
was  to  come  up  the  next  day  it  was  necessary  for 
us  to  return  immediately  with  our  information. 

We  built  a  fire  in  a  sheltered  spot,  broiled  some 
venison  we  had  shot  during  the  day,  and  after 
a  substantial  meal  I  started  back  alone,  leaving 
the  others  behind. 

It  was  eleven  o  'clock  when  I  got  back  into  camp. 
A  light  was  still  burning  in  General  Carr's  tent. 
He  was  sitting  up  to  await  my  return.  He  was 
overjoyed  at  the  news  I  brought  him.  He  had 
been  extremely  anxious  concerning  the  safety  of 
Penrose.  Rousing  up  his  cook,  he  ordered  a  hot 
supper  for  me,  which,  after  my  long,  cold  ride, 


158      BUFFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STORY 

I  greatly  appreciated.  I  passed  the  night  in  the 
general's  tent,  and  woke  the  next  morning  fully 
refreshed  and  ready  for  a  big  day's  work. 

The  snow  had  drifted  deeply  overnight,  and 
the  command  had  a  hard  tramp  through  it  when 
it  set  out  next  morning  for  the  Cimarron.  In 
many  ravines  the  drifts  had  filled  in  to  a  great 
depth.  Often  the  teamsters  had  to  shovel  their 
way  through. 

At  sundown  we  reached  the  Cimarron,  and 
went  into  a  nice  warm  camp.  The  next  morning, 
on  looking  around,  we  found  that  Penrose,  who 
was  not  encumbered  with  wagons,  had  kept  on 
the  west  side  of  the  Cimarron.  Here  the  country 
was  so  rough  that  we  could  not  stay  on  the  trail 
with  wagons.  But  we  knew  that  he  would  continue 
.down  the  river,  and  the  general  gave  orders  to 
take  the  best  route  down-stream,  which  I  found 
to  be  on  the  east  side.  Before  we  could  make  any 
headway  with  our  wagon  trains  we  had  to  leave 
the  river  and  get  out  on  the  divide. 

For  some  distance  we  found  a  good  road,  but 
suddenly  we  were  brought  up  standing  on  a  high 
table-land  overlooking  the  beautiful  winding  creek 
that  lay  far  below  us.  How  to  get  the  wagons 
down  became  a  serious  problem  for  the  officers. 

We  were  in  the  foothills  of  the  rough  Eaton 
Mountains.  The  bluff  we  were  on  was  steep  and 
rugged. 

**Cody,"  said  General  Carr,  **we're  in  a  nice 
jSx  now." 

** That's  nothing,"  I  replied. 


BUFFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STOEY      159 

'^But  you  never  can  take  the  train  down." 

*  *  Never  mind  the  train,  General.  You  are  look- 
ing for  a  good  camp.  How  does  that  valley  suit 
your' 

**That  will  do,''  he  said.  ^^I  can  easily  de- 
scend with  the  cavalry,  but  how  to  get  the  wagons 
down  is  a  puzzler." 

**By  the  time  your  camp  is  located  the  wagons 
will  be  there,"  I  said. 

**A11  right,"  he  returned.  *'I'll  leave  it  to  you, 
inasmuch  as  you  seem  to  want  to  be  the  boss." 
He  ordered  the  command  to  dismount  and  lead 
the  horses  down  the  mountain.  When  the  wagon- 
train,  which  was  a  mile  in  the  rear,  came  up,  one 
of  the  drivers  asked: 

**How  are  we  going  to  get  down  there?" 

**Run  down,  slide  down,  fall  down — any  way 
to  get  down, ' '  I  told  him. 

**We  never  can  do  it,"  said  another  wagon- 
master.  **It's  too  steep.  The  wagons  will  run 
over  the  mules." 

*'0h,  no,"  I  said.  **The  mules  will  have  to 
keep  out  of  the  way." 

I  instructed  Wilson,  the  chief  wagon-master, 
to  bring  up  his  mess-wagon.  He  drove  the  wagon 
to  the  brink  of  the  bluff.  Following  my  direc- 
tions, he  brought  out  extra  chains  with  which 
we  locked  both  wheels  on  each  side,  and  then 
rough-locked  them. 

This  done,  we  started  the  wagons  down  the  hill. 
The  wheel-horses,  or  rather  the  wheel-mules,  were 
good  on  the  hold  back,  and  we  got  along  beauti- 


160      BUFFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STOEY 

fully  till  the  wagon  had  nearly  reached  the  bottom 
of  the  declivity.  Then  the  wagon  crowded  the 
mnles  so  hard  that  they  started  on  the  run  and 
came  galloping  down  into  the  valley  to  the  spot 
General  Carr  had  selected  for  his  camp.  There 
was  not  the  slightest  accident. 

Three  other  wagons  followed  in  the  same  way. 
In  half  an  hour  every  wagon  was  in  the  camp. 
It  was  an  exciting  sight  to  see  the  six-mule  teams 
come  almost  straight  down  the  mountainside  and 
finally  break  into  a  run.  At  times  it  seemed  cer- 
tain that  the  wagon  must  turn  a  somersault  and 
land  on  the  mules,  but  nothing  of  the  kind  hap- 
pened. 

Our  march  proved  be  a  lucky  one  so  far  as 
gaining  on  Penrose  was  concerned.  The  route 
he  had  taken  on  the  west  side  of  the  stream  was 
rough  and  bad,  and  with  our  great  wagon-train 
we  made  as  many  miles  in  one  day  as  he  had  in 
seven. 

His  command  had  taken  a  high  table-land  whose 
sides  were  so  steep  that  not  even  a  pack  mule 
could  make  the  descent,  and  he  had  been  obliged 
to  retrace  the  trail  for  a  great  distance,  losing 
three  days  while  doing  so. 

The  incident  of  this  particular  camp  we  had 
selected  was  an  exciting  turkey  hunt.  We  found 
the  trees  along  the  river  bank  literally  alive  with 
turkeys.  After  unsaddling  the  horses,  two  or 
three  hundred  soldiers  surrounded  a  grove  of 
timber,  and  there  was  a  grand  turkey  round-up. 
Guns,    clubs,    and    even    stones    were    used    as 


BUFFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STORY      161 

weapons.  Of  course,  after  the  hunt  we  had  roast 
turkey,  boiled  turkey,  fried  turkey,  and  turkey  on 
toast  for  our  fare,  and  in  honor  of  the  birds 
which  had  provided  this  treat  we  named  the  place 
Camp  Turkey. 

When  we  left  camp  we  had  an  easy  trail  for 
several  days.  Penrose  had  taken  a  southerly 
direction  toward  the  Canadian  River.  No  Indians 
were  to  be  seen,  nor  did  we  find  any  signs  of  them. 

One  day,  while  riding  in  advance  of  the  com- 
mand down  San  Francisco  Creek,  I  heard  some 
one  calling  my  name  from  a  little  bunch  of  willow 
brush  on  the  opposite  bank  of  the  stream.  Look- 
ing closely  at  the  spot,  I  saw  a  colored  soldier. 

**Sakes  alive,  Massa  Bill,  am  dat  youT'  shouted 
the  man,  whom  I  recognized  as  a  member  of  the 
Tenth  Cavalry. 

**Come  out  o'  heah,"  I  heard  him  call  to  some- 
one behind  him.  **Heah's  Massa  Buffalo  Bill.'' 
Then  he  sang  out  to  me:  ** Massa  Bill,  is  you  got 
any  hahdtackf  " 

**Nary  a  bit  of  hardtack,  but  the  wagons  will 
be  along  presently,  and  you  can  get  all  you  want. ' ' 

**Dat's  de  best  news  Ah's  heahd  fo'  sixteen  long 
days,  Massa  Bill." 

** Where's  your  command?  Where's  General 
Penrose?  "  I  demanded. 

**Dunno,"  said  the  darky.  **We  got  lost,  an' 
we's  been  starvin'  ever  since." 

By  this  time  two  other  negroes  had  emerged 
from  their  hiding-place.  They  had  deserted  Pen- 
rose's command,  which  was  out  of  rations  and  in 


162      BUFFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STOEY 

a  starving  condition.  They  were  trying  to  make 
their  way  back  to  old  Fort  Lyon.  General  Carr 
concluded,  from  what  they  conld  tell  him,  that 
Penrose  was  somewhere  on  PoUadora  Creek.  But 
nothing  definite  was  to  be  gleaned  from  the  starv- 
ing darkies,  for  they  knew  very  little  themselves. 

General  Carr  was  deeply  distressed  to  learn 
that  Penrose  and  his  men  were  in  such  bad  shape. 
He  ordered  Major  Brown  to  start  out  the  next 
morning  with  two  companies  of  cavalry  and  fifty 
pack  mules,  loaded  with  provisions,  and  to  make 
all  possible  speed  to  reach  and  relieve  the  suffer- 
ing soldiers.  I  went  with  this  detachment.  On 
the  third  day  out  we  found  the  half -famished  sol- 
diers encamped  on  the  PoUadora.  The  camp  pre- 
sented a  pitiful  sight.  For  over  two  weeks  the 
men  had  only  quarter  rations  and  were  now  nearly 
starved  to  death.  Over  two  hundred  mules  were 
lying  dead,  having  succumbed  to  fatigue  and  star- 
vation. 

Penrose,  having  no  hope  that  he  would  be  found, 
had  sent  back  a  company  of  the  Seventh  Cavalry 
to  Fort  Lyon  for  supplies.  As  yet  no  word  had 
been  heard  from  them.  The  rations  brought  by 
Major  Brown  arrived  none  too  soon.  They  were 
the  means  of  saving  many  lives. 

Almost  the  first  man  I  saw  after  reaching  the 
camp  was  my  true  and  tried  friend,  **Wild  Bill." 
That  night  we  had  a  jolly  reunion  around  the 
campfires. 

When  General  Carr  came  up  with  his  force,  he 
took  command  of  all  the  troops,  as  he  was  the 


BUFFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STORY      163 

senior  officer.  When  a  good  camp  had  been 
selected  he  unloaded  his  wagons  and  sent  them 
back  to  Fort  Lyon  for  supplies.  He  then  picked 
out  five  hundred  of  the  best  men  and  horses,  and, 
taking  his  pack-train  with  him,  started  south  for 
the  Canadian  Eiver.  The  remainder  of  the  troops 
were  left  at  the  supply  camp. 

I  was  ordered  to  accompany  the  expedition 
bound  for  the  Canadian  River.  We  struck  the 
south  fork  of  this  stream  at  a  point  a  few 
miles  above  the  old  adobe  walls  that  were  once 
a  fort.  Here  Kit  Carson  had  had  a  big  Indian 
fight. 

We  were  now  within  twelve  miles  of  a  new 
supply  depot  called  Fort  Evans,  established  for 
the  Third  Cavalry  and  Evans's  expedition  from 
New  Mexico. 

The  scouts  who  brought  this  information  re- 
ported also  that  they  expected  the  arrival  of  a 
bull-train  from  New  Mexico  with  a  large  quan- 
tity of  beer  for  the  soldiers. 

**Wild  Bill"  and  I  determined  to  ^^ay''  for 
this  beer.  That  very  evening  it  came  along,  and 
the  beer  destined  for  the  soldiers  at  Fort  Evans 
never  reached  them.  It  went  straight  down  the 
thirsty  throats  of  General  Carr's  command. 

The  Mexicans  living  near  Fort  Evans  had 
brewed  the  beer.  They  were  taking  it  to  Fort 
Evans  to  sell  to  the  troops.  But  it  found  a  better 
market  without  going  so  far.  It  was  sold  to  our 
boys  in  pint  cups,  and,  as  the  weather  was  very 
cold,  we  warmed  it  by  putting  the  ends  of  our 


164      BUFFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STORY 

picket  pins,  heated  red-hot,  into  the  brew  before 
we  partook  of  it.  The  result  was  one  of  the  big- 
gest beer  jollifications  it  has  ever  been  my  mis- 
fortune to  attend. 

One  evening  General  Carr  summoned  me  to  his 
tent.  He  said  he  wanted  to  send  some  scouts  with 
dispatches  to  Fort  Supply,  to  be  forwarded  from 
there  to  General  Sheridan.  He  ordered  me  to 
call  the  scouts  together  and  to  select  the  men 
who  were  to  go. 

I  asked  if  I  were  to  go,  but  he  replied  that  he 
could  not  spare  me.  The  distancp  to  Camp  Sup- 
ply was  about  two  hundred  miles.  Because  of  the 
very  cold  weather  it  was  sure  to  be  a  hard  trip. 
None  of  the  scouts  were  at  all  keen  about  under- 
taking it,  but  it  was  finally  settled  that  **Wild 
Bill,''  ** Little  Geary,"  a  half-breed,  and  three 
other  scouts  should  carry  the  dispatches.  They 
took  their  departure  the  next  day  with  orders  to 
return  as  soon  as  possible. 

We  scouted  for  several  days  along  the  Cana- 
dian River,  finding  no  sign  of  Indians.  The  gen- 
eral then  returned  to  camp,  and  soon  our  wagon- 
train  returned  with  provisions  from  Fort  Lyon. 
.Our  animals  were  in  poor  condition,  so  we  re- 
mained in  different  camps  along  San  Francisco 
Creek  and  on  the  North  Fork  of  the  Canadian  till 
**Wild  Bill"  and  his  scouts  returned  from  Fort 
Supply. 

Among  the  scouts  in  Penrose's  command  were 
fifteen  Mexicans.  Among  them  and  the  Ameri- 
cans a  bitter  feud  existed.     When  Carr  united 


BUFFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STORY      165 

Penrose's  command  with  his  own,  and  I  was 
made  chief  of  scouts,  this  feud  grew  more  intense 
than  ever.  The  Mexicans  often  threatened  to 
*^ clean  us  out,"  but  they  postponed  the  execu- 
tion of  the  threat  from  time  to  time.  At  last, 
however,  when  we  were  all  in  the  sutler's  store, 
the  long-expected  fight  took  place,  with  the  result 
that  the  Mexicans  were  severely  beaten. 

On  hearing  of  the  row.  General  Carr  sent  for 
**Wild  Bill"  and  me.  From  various  reports  he 
had  made  up  his  mind  that  we  were  the  instigators 
of  the  affair.  After  listening  to  what  we  had  to 
say,  however,  he  decided  that  the  Mexicans  were 
as  much  to  blame  as  we  were.  It  is  possible  that 
both  **Wild  Bill"  and  I  had  imbibed  a  few  more 
drinks  than  we  needed  that  evening.  General 
Carr  said  to  me : 

**  Cody,  there  are  plenty  of  antelopes  in  the 
country.  You  can  do  some  hunting  while  we  stay 
here. ' '  After  that  my  time  was  spent  in  the  chase, 
and  I  had  fine  success.  I  killed  from  twenty  to 
twenty-five  antelopes  every  day,  and  the  camp 
was  supplied  with  fresh  meat. 

When  the  horses  and  mules  belonging  to  the 
outfit  had  been  sufficiently  recruited  to  travel,  we 
returned  to  Fort  Lyon,  reaching  there  in  March, 
1869.  The  command  recruited  and  rested  for 
thirty  days  before  proceeding  to  the  Depart- 
ment of  the  Platte,  whither  it  had  been 
ordered. 

At  my  request.  General  Carr  kindly  granted  me 
a  month's  leave  of  absence  to  visit  my  family  in 


166      BUFFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STORY 

St.  Louis.  He  instructed  Captain  Hays,  our  quar- 
termaster, to  let  me  ride  my  mule  and  horse  to 
Sheridan,  140  miles  distant.  At  Sheridan  I  was 
to  take  the  train  for  St.  Louis. 

I  was  instructed  to  leave  the  animals  in  the 
quartermaster's  corral  at  Fort  Wallacefruntil  I 
should  come  back.  Instead  of  doing  this,  I  put 
them  both  in  charge  of  my  old  friend  Perry,  the 
hotel-keeper  at  Sheridan. 

After  twenty  days,  pleasantly  spent  with  my 
family  at  St.  Louis,  I  returned  to  Sheridan.  There 
I  learned  that  my  horse  and  mule  had  been  seized 
by  the  Government. 

The  quartermaster's  agent  at  Sheridan  had  re- 
ported to  General  Bankhead,  commanding  at  Fort 
Wallace,  and  to  Captain  Laufer,  the  quartermas- 
ter, that  I  had  left  the  country  and  had  sold  the 
animals  to  Perry.  Laufer  took  possession  of  the 
animals,  and  threatened  to  have  Perry  arrested 
for  buying  Government  property.  He  refused  to 
pay  any  attention  to  Perry's  statement  that  I 
would  return  in  a  few  days,  and  that  the  animals 
had  merely  been  left  in  his  care. 

As  soon  as  I  found  this  out  I  proceeded  to  the 
office  of  the  quartermaster's  agent  who  had  told 
this  lie,  and  gave  him  the  thrashing  he  richly  de- 
served. When  I  had  finished  with  him  he  hastened 
to  the  fort,  reported  what  had  happened,  and  re- 
turned with  a  guard  to  protect  him. 

Next  morning,  securing  a  horse  from  Perry, 
I  rode  to  Fort  Wallace  and  demanded  my  horse 
and  mule  from  General  Bankhead.     I  told  him 


BUFFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STOKY      167 

they  were  Quartermaster  Hays's  property  and 
belonged  to  General  Carr's  command,  and  ex- 
plained that  I  had  obtained  permission  to  ride 
them  to  Sheridan  and  return. 

General  Bankhead  gruffly  ordered  me  out  of 
his  office  and  off  the  reservation,  declaring  that 
if  I  didn't  leave  in  a  hurry  he  would  have  me  re- 
moved by  force. 

I  told  him  he  might  do  this  and  be  hanged,  using, 
very  possibly,  a  stronger  expression.  That  night, 
while  sleeping  at  the  Perry  House,  I  was  awak- 
ened by  a  tap  on  my  shoulder  and  was  astonished 
to  see  the  room  filled  with  armed  negro  soldiers 
with  their  guns  all  pointed  at  me.  The  first  word 
came  from  the  sergeant. 

*  *  Now  looka  heah,  Massa  Bill ;  if  you  move  we  '11 
blow  you  off  de  f  ahm,  suah ! ' '  Just  then  Captain 
Ezekial  entered,  and  ordered  the  soldiers  to  stand 
back. 

**I'm  sorry.  Bill,"  he  said,  when  I  demanded  to 
know  what  this  meant.  **But  I've  been  ordered 
by  General  Bankhead  to  arrest  you  and  bring  you 
to  Fort  Wallace." 

*  *  All  right, ' '  said  I.  *  *  But  you  could  have  made 
the  arrest  without  bringing  the  whole  Thirty- 
eighth  Infantry  with  you." 

**I  know  that.  Bill,  but  you've  not  been  in  a 
very  good  humor  the  last  day  or  two,  and  we 
didn't  know  how  you'd  act." 

I  dressed  hurriedly  and  accompanied  the  cap- 
tain to  Fort  Wallace.  When  we  reached  there 
at  two  o'clock  in  the  morning  the  captain  said: 


168      BUFFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STORY 

**Bill,  I'm  sorry,  but  my  orders  are  to  put  you 
in  the  guardhouse/' 

I  told  him  I  did  not  blame  him  for  carrying 
out  orders,  and  was  made  a  guardhouse  prisoner 
for  the  first  and  only  time  in  my  life.  The  ser- 
geant of  the  guard,  who  was  an  old  friend  from 
Captain  Graham's  company,  refused  to  put  me 
in  a  cell,  kindly  allowing  me  to  sleep  in  his  own 
bed,  and  in  a  few  minutes  I  was  sound  asleep. 

Captain  Graham  called  to  see  me  in  the  morn- 
ing. He  said  it  was  a  shame  to  lock  me  up,  and 
promised  to  speak  to  the  general  about  it.  At 
guard-mount,  when  I  was  not  summoned,  I  sent 
word  to  Captain  Graham  that  I  wanted  to  see  Gen- 
eral Bankhead.  He  sent  back  word  that  the  gen- 
eral refused  to  have  anything  to  do  with  me. 

As  it  was  impossible  to  send  word  to  General 
Carr,  I  determined  to  send  a  dispatch  direct  to 
General  Sheridan.  I  wrote  out  a  long  telegram, 
informing  him  of  my  difficulty.  But  when  it  was 
taken  to  the  telegraph  office  for  transmission  the 
operator  refused  to  send  it  at  once.  Instead  he 
showed  it  to  General  Bankhead,  who  tore  it  up. 
When  no  reply  came  I  went  to  the  office,  accom- 
panied by  a  guard,  and  learned  from  the  opera- 
tor what  he  had  done. 

**See  here,  my  young  friend,"  said  I,  **this  is 
a  public  telegraph  line.  I  want  my  telegram  sent, 
or  there'll  be  trouble." 

He  knew  very  well  it  was  his  duty  to  send  the 
dispatch.  I  rewrote  it  and  gave  it  to  him,  with 
the  money  to  pay  for  it.    But  before  he  made 


BUFFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STOET      169 

any  effort  to  transmit  it  lie  called  on  General 
Bankhead  and  informed  him  of  what  I  had  said. 
Seeing  that  the  dispatch  would  have  to  go  through, 
the  general  sent  for  me. 

**If  I  let  you  go,  sir,  will  you  leave  the  Post 
at  once  and  not  bother  anyone  at  Sheridan  T'  he 
demanded. 

**No,  sir,"  I  replied,  **I'll  do  nothing  of  the 
kind.  I'll  remain  in  the  guardhouse  till  I  get 
an  answer  from  General  Sheridan." 

**If  I  give  you  your  horse  and  mule  will  you 
proceed  at  once  to  Fort  Lyon?" 

*'No,  sir;  I  have  some  bills  to  settle  at  Sheri- 
dan and  some  other  business  to  transact." 

*'Well,  sir,  will  you  at  least  promise  not  to 
interfere  any  further  with  the  quartermaster's 
agent  at  Sheridan?" 

**I  shall  not  trouble  him  any  more,  sir.  I  have 
had  all  I  want  from  him. ' ' 

General  Bankhead  thereupon  sent  for  Captain 
Laufer  and  ordered  him  to  turn  the  horse  and 
mule  over  to  me.  In  a  few  minutes  I  was  on  my 
way  to  Sheridan,  and,  having  settled  my  business 
there,  I  proceeded  to  Fort  Lyon,  arriving  there 
two  days  afterward.  I  related  my  adventures  to 
General  Carr,  Major  Brown,  and  the  other  offi- 
cers, who  were  highly  amused  thereby. 


^      CHAPTER  VI 

When  I  returned  to  General  Carr's  command 
after  my  experience  as  a  prisoner  I  was  informed 
that  the  general  had  been  waiting  for  me  for  two 
weeks. 

**I'm  glad  you've  come,  Bill,"  said  the  general. 
** While  we've  been  at  this  Post  a  number  of 
valuable  animals  have  been  stolen,  as  well  as 
many  Government  horses  and  mules.  We  think 
the  thieves  are  still  near  the  fort.  Fresh  tracks 
have  been  found  near  Fort  Lyon.  Perhaps  Bill 
Green,  the  scout  who  has  been  up  there,  can  tell 
you  something  about  them." 

Sending  for  Green,  I  found  that  he  had  marked 
the  place  where  he  had  lost  the  trail  of  the 
marauders. 

Next  morning,  accompanied  by  Green,  Jack 
Farley,  and  another  scout,  I  set  out  after  the 
horse-thieves. 

While  making  a  circuit  about  the  tracks  we 
had  found  leading  away  from  the  spot  where 
Green  discovered  them,  we  found  the  trail  of 
twelve  animals — four  mules  and  eight  horses — 
in  the  edge  of  the  sandhills. 

From  this  point  we  had  no  trouble  in  trailing 
them  down  to  the  Arkansas  River.  This  stream 
they  had  followed  toward  Denver,  whither  they 
were  undoubtedly  bound. 

170 


BUFFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STORY      171 

When  we  got  within  four  miles  of  Denver  we 
found  that  the  thieves  had  passed  four  days  be- 
fore. I  concluded  that  they  had  decided  to  dis- 
pose of  the  animals  in  Denver.  I  was  aware  that 
Saturday  was  the  big  auction  day  there,  so  we 
went  to  a  hotel  outside  the  town  to  await  that 
day.  I  was  too  well  known  in  the  city  to  show 
myself  there,  for  the  thieves  would  have  taken 
alarm  had  they  learned  of  my  presence. 

Early  Saturday  morning  we  rode  into  the  city 
and  stabled  our  animals  at  the  Elephant  Corral. 
I  secured  a  room  in  a  hotel  overlooking  the  cor- 
ral, and  took  up  a  post  of  observation.  I  did  not 
have  to  wait  long. 

A  man,  whom  I  recognized  at  once  as  Williams, 
one  of  our  old  packers,  rode  into  the  ring,  mounted 
on  Lieutenant  Forbush's  mule,  and  leading  an- 
other Government  mule.  This  mule  had  been  re- 
cently branded,  and  over  the  *^U.  S.*'  a  plain 
**D  B''  had  been  stamped. 

As  the  man's  confederate  did  not  appear  I  de- 
cided he  was  outside  with  the  rest  of  the  stolen 
animals. 

When  Mr.  Forbush's  mule  was  put  up  at  auc- 
tion I  came  down  to  the  corral  and  walked  through 
the  crowd  of  bidders. 

The  packer  saw  me,  and  tried  to  get  away,  but 
I  seized  him  firmly  by  the  shoulder. 

**I  guess,  my  friend,"  said  I,  **that  you'll  have 
to  go  with  me.  Make  any  resistance  and  I'll  shoot 
you  on  the  spot!" 

To  the  auctioneer  and  an  inquisitive  officer  I 


172      BUFFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STORY 

showed  my  commission  as  a  United  States  de- 
tective. With  Farley  and  Green,  who  were  close 
at  hand,  I  took  my  prisoner  three  miles  down  the 
Platte.  There  we  dismounted,  and  began  prepa- 
rations to  hang  onr  prisoner  to  a  limb.  We  in- 
formed him  that  he  could  escape  this  fate  only 
by  telling  us  where  his  partner  was  hidden. 

He  at  first  denied  having  any  partner,  but  when 
we  gave  him  five  minutes  to  live  unless  he  told 
the  truth,  he  said  his  pal  was  in  an  unoccupied 
house  three  miles  farther  down  the  river. 

We  took  up  our  journey,  and,  coming  in  sight 
of  the  house,  saw  a  number  of  animals  grazing 
near  it.  As  we  rode  to  the  door,  another  of  our 
old  packers,  whom  I  recognized  as  Bill  Bevins, 
stepped  to  the  front  door.  I  instantly  covered 
him  with  my  rifle  and  ordered  him  to  throw  up 
his  hands  before  he  could  draw  his  revolver. 

Looking  through  the  house,  we  found  saddles, 
pack-saddles,  lariats,  blankets,  overcoats,  and  two 
Henry  rifles.  We  returned  with  the  whole  outfit 
to  Denver,  where  we  lodged  Williams  and  Bevins 
in  jail.  The  next  day  we  tied  each  man  to  a  mule 
and  started  on  the  return  journey. 

At  the  hotel  where  we  had  stopped  before  mak- 
ing the  arrests,  we  were  joined  by  our  man  with 
the  pack  mule.  That  night  we  camped  on  Cherry 
Creek,  seventeen  miles  from  Denver. 

It  was  April,  and  the  weather  was  cold  and 
stormy.  We  found  a  warm  and  cozy  camping- 
place  in  the  bend  of  the  creek.  We  made  our 
beds  in  a  row — feet  to  the  fire.    The  prisoners 


BUFFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STORY      173 

had  thus  far  been  docile  and  I  did  not  think  it 
necessary  to  hobble  them.  They  slept  inside,  and 
it  was  arranged  that  some  one  was  to  be  con- 
stantly on  guard.  About  one  o  'clock  in  the  morn- 
ing it  began  snowing.  Shortly  before  three,  Jack 
Farley,  who  was  on  guard,  and  sitting  at  the  foot 
of  the  bed  with  his  back  to  the  prisoners,  was 
kicked  in^o  the  fire  by  Williams.  The  next  in- 
stant Bevins,  who  had  got  hold  of  his  shoes, 
sprang  up,  jumped  over  the  fire,  and  started  away 
on  the  run. 

As  soon  as  I  was  enough  awake  to  comprehend 
what  was  going  on  I  sent  a  shot  after  him.  Will- 
iams attempted  to  follow  Bevins,  but  as  he  did 
so  I  knocked  him  down  with  the  butt  of  my  re- 
volver. Farley  had  by  this  time  got  out  of  the 
fire.  Green  had  started  after  Bevins,  firing  at 
him  as  he  ran,  but  the  thief  made  his  escape  into 
the  brush. 

In  his  flight,  unfortunately  for  him,  he  dropped 
one  of  his  shoes. 

Leaving  Williams  in  charge  of  Farley  and 
**Long  Doc,"  the  man  with  the  pack  mule.  Green 
and  I  struck  out  for  Bevins.  We  heard  him  break- 
ing through  the  brush,  but,  knowing  it  would  be 
useless  to  try  to  follow  him  on  foot,  we  went  back 
and  saddled  two  of  the  fastest  horses.  At  day- 
light we  struck  out  on  his  trail,  which  was  plainly 
visible  in  the  snow. 

Though  he  had  an  hour  and  a  half's  start  his 
track  lay  through  a  country  covered  with  prickly 
pear.    We  knew  that  with  a  bare  foot  he  could 


174      BUFFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STOEY 

make  little  progress.  We  could  see,  however, 
by  the  long  jumps  lie  was  taking,  that  he  was 
making  excellent  time.  Soon  the  trail  became 
spotted  with  blood,  where  the  thorns  of  the 
prickly  pear  had  pierced  his  shoeless  foot. 

After  a  run  of  twelve  miles  we  saw  Bevins  cross- 
ing a  ridge  two  miles  ahead.  We  reached  the 
ridge  just  as  he  was  descending  the  divide  toward 
the  South  Platte,  which  at  this  point  was  very 
deep  and  swift. 

If  he  got  across  the  stream  he  stood  a  good 
chance  of  escape.  We  pushed  our  horses  as  fast 
as  possible,  and  when  we  got  within  range  I  told 
him  to  halt  or  I  would  shoot.  He  knew  I  was 
a  good  shot,  and  coolly  sat  down  to  wait  for  us. 

** Bevins,  you  gave  us  a  good  chase,''  I  said, 
as  we  rode  up. 

**Yes,"  he  returned  calmly,  '*and  if  I'd  had 
fifteen  minutes'  more  start  and  got  across  the 
Platte  you'd  never  have  caught  me." 

Bevins 's  flight  was  the  most  remarkable  feat 
of  its  kind  I  have  ever  heard  of.  A  man  who 
could  run  barefooted  in  the  snow  through  a 
prickly-pear  patch  was  surely  a  ** tough  one." 
When  I  looked  at  the  man 's  bleeding  foot  I  really 
felt  sorry  for  him.  He  asked  me  for  my  knife, 
and  when  I  gave  it  to  him  he  dug  the  thorns  out 
of  his  foot  with  its  sharp  point.  I  consider  him 
the  gamest  man  I  ever  met. 

I  could  not  suffer  a  man  with  such  a  foot  to 
walk,  so  I  dismounted,  and  he  rode  my  horse  back 
to  camp,  while  Green  and  I  rode  the  other  horse 


BUFFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STOEY      175 

by  turns.  We  kept  a  close  watch  on  our  prisoner. 
We  had  had  plenty  of  proof  that  he  needed  it. 
His  injured  foot  must  have  pained  him  fearfully, 
but  never  a  word  of  complaint  escaped  him. 

After  breakfasting  we  resumed  ,our  journey. 
We  had  no  further  trouble  till  we  reached  the 
Arkansas  Eiver,  where  we  found  a  vacant  cabin 
and  took  possession  of  it  for  the  night. 

There  was  no  fear  that  Bevins  would  try  to 
escape.  His  foot  was  swollen  to  a  great  size,  and 
was  useless.  Believing  that  Williams  could  not 
get  away  from  the  cabin,  we  unbound  him. 

The  cabin  was  comfortably  warmed  and  well- 
lighted  by  the  fire.  We  left  *  *  Long  Doc ' '  on  guard 
and  went  to  sleep. 

At  one  o'clock  Williams  asked  **Doc"  to  allow 
him  to  step  to  the  door  for  a  minute.  **Doc'' 
had  his  revolver  in  hand,  and  did  not  think  it 
necessary  to  waken  us.  He  granted  the  request. 
With  **Doc,"  revolver  in  hand,  watching  him, 
Williams  walked  to  the  outer  edge  of  the  floor. 
Suddenly  he  made  a  spring  to  the  right  and  was 
out  of  sight  in  the  black  darkness  before  his  guard 
could  even  raise  his  revolver. 

**Doc"  leaped  after  him,  firing  just  as  he 
rounded  the  corner  of  the  cabin.  The  report 
brought  us  all  to  our  feet.  I  at  once  covered 
Bevins  with  my  revolver,  but,  seeing  that  he  could 
barely  stir,  I  Lowered  it. 

Then  in  came  **Doc,"  swearing  a  blue  streak 
and  announcing  that  Williams  had  escaped.  Noth- 
ing was  left  us  but  to  gather  our  horses  close  to 


176      BUFFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STORY 

the  cabin  and  stand  guard  the  rest  of  the  night 
to  prevent  the  possibility  of  our  late  prisoner 
sneaking  in  and  getting  away  with  one  of  them. 
This  was  the  last  I  ever  saw  or  heard  of  Williams, 
but  we  got  back  to  Fort  Lyon  with  Bevins. 

Though  we  had  lost  one  of  our  prisoners,  Gen- 
eral Carr  complimented  us  on  the  success  of  our 
trip.  The  next  day  we  took  Bevins  to  Bogg's 
Ranch,  on  Picket  Wire  Creek,  where  he  was  to 
await  trial.  But  he  never  was  tried.  He 
made  his  escape,  as  I  had  expected  he  would 
do. 

In  1872  I  heard  that  he  was  at  his  old  tricks 
on  Laramie  Plains.  A  little  later  he  sent  word 
to  me  that  if  he  ever  met  me  he  would  kiU  me  on 
sight.  Shortly  thereafter  he  was  arrested  and  con- 
victed for  robbery,  but  made  his  escape  from 
Laramie  City  prison.  Later  he  organized  a  des- 
perate gang  of  outlaws  which  infested  the  country 
north  of  the  Union  Pacific.  When  the  stage  be- 
gan running  between  Cheyenne  and  Deadwood, 
these  outlaws  robbed  coaches  and  passengers, 
often  making  big  hauls  of  plunder.  Finally  most 
of  the  gang  were  caught,  tried,  and  convicted,  and 
sent  to  the  penitentiary  for  a  number  of  years. 
Bevins  was  among  the  number. 

Soon  after  my  return  to  Fort  Lyon,  the  Fifth 
Cavalry  was  ordered  to  the  Department  of  the 
Platte.  While  we  were  at  Fort  Wallace,  getting 
supplies  en  route  I  passed  the  quarters  of  General 
Bankhead,  who  had  ordered  my  arrest  on  the  occa- 
sion of  my  last  visit  to  that  Post.    The  general 


BUFFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STOEY      177 

sent  out  for  me,  and  as  I  entered  his  office  he  ex- 
tended his  hand. 

**I  hope  you  have  no  hard  feelings  for  me, 
Cody,''  he  said.  **I  have  just  had  a  talk  with 
General  Carr  and  Quartermaster  Hays.  If  you 
had  told  me  you  had  permission  to  ride  that  horse 
and  mule,  there  would  have  been  no  trouble. ' ' 

** That's  all  right.  General,"  I  said.  *^I  don't 
believe  your  quartermaster's  agent  will  ever  cir- 
culate any  more  false  stories  about  me." 

*'No,"  said  the  general;  **he  hasn't  recovered 
yet  from  the  beating  you  gave  him." 

When  the  command  reached  the  north  fork  of 
the  Beaver,  I  rode  down  the  valley  toward  the 
stream,  and  discovered  a  large  fresh  Indian  trail. 
I  found  tracks  scattered  all  over  the  valley  and 
on  both  sides  of  the  creek,  as  if  a  large  village 
had  recently  passed  that  way.  I  estimated  there 
could  not  be  less  than  four  hundred  lodges,  or  be- 
tween twenty-five  hundred  and  three  thousand 
warriors,  women,  and  children  in  the  band. 

When  I  reported  my  discovery  to  General  Carr, 
he  halted  his  regiment,  and,  after  consulting  a 
few  minutes,  ordered  me  to  select  a  ravine,  or  as 
low  ground  as  possible,  so  that  the  troops  might 
be  kept  out  of  sight  of  the  Indians  until  we  could 
strike  the  creek. 

We  went  into  camp  on  the  Beaver.  The  general 
ordered  Lieutenant  Ward  to  take  twelve  men  and 
myself  and  follow  up  the  trail  for  several  miles. 
Our  orders  were  to  find  out  how  fast  the  Indians 
were  traveling.    I  soon  made  up  my  mind  by  the 


178      BUFFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STORY 

frequency  of  their  camps  that  they  were  moving 
slowly,  hunting  as  they  journeyed. 

After  we  had  scouted  about  twelve  miles,  keep- 
ing our  horses  well  concealed  under  the  bank  of 
the  creek,  Ward  and  I  left  our  horses  and  crept 
to  a  high  knoll  where  there  was  a  good  view  for 
some  distance  down-stream.  As  we  looked  over 
the  summit  of  the  hill  we  saw  a  whole  Indian 
village,  not  three  miles  away.  Thousands  of 
ponies  were  grazing  on  the  prairie.  To  our  left, 
on  the  opposite  side  of  the  creek,  two  or  three 
parties  of  Indians  were  coming  in,  laden  with 
buffalo  meat. 

**This  is  no  place  for  us.  Lieutenant,'*  said  I. 
**I  think  we  have  business  at  the  camp  which 
must  be  attended  to  as  soon  as  possible. ' ' 

*  *  I  agree  with  you, ' '  he  returned.  *  *  The  quicker 
we  get  there  the  better." 

We  came  down  the  hill  as  fast  as  we  could 
and  joined  our  men.  Lieutenant  Ward  hurriedly 
wrote  a  note  and  sent  it  to  General  Carr  by  a 
corporal.  As  the  man  started  away  on  a  gallop 
Ward  said:  **We  will  march  slowly  back  until 
we  meet  the  troops.  I  think  General  Carr  will 
soon  be  here." 

A  minute  or  two  later  we  heard  shots  in  the 
direction  taken  by  our  courier.  Presently  he 
came  flying  back  around  the  bend  of  the  creek, 
with  three  or  four  Indians  in  hot  pursuit.  The 
lieutenant,  with  his  squad  of  soldiers,  charged 
upon  them.  They  turned  and  ran  across  the 
stream. 


BUFFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STOEY      179 

**This  will  not  do,"  said  Ward,  when  the  last 
redskin  had  disappeared.  *  *  The  whole  village  will 
know  the  soldiers  are  near  by. ' ' 

** Lieutenant,''  said  I,  **give  me  that  note.  I'll 
take  it  to  the  general." 

He  gladly  handed  me  the  dispatch.  Spurring 
my  horse,  I  dashed  up  the  creek.  Soon  I  observed 
another  party  of  Indians  returning  to  the  village 
with  meat.  I  did  not  wait  for  them  to  attack 
me,  but  sent  a  shot  after  them  at  long  range. 

In  less  than  an  hour  I  reached  the  camp  and 
delivered  the  dispatch  to  General  Carr.  *^  Boots 
and  Saddles"  was  sounded,  and  all  the  troops 
save  two  companies,  which  were  left  to  guard  the 
supply  train,  were  soon  galloping  toward  the  In- 
dian camp. 

When  we  had  ridden  three  miles  we  met  Lieu- 
tenant Ward.  He  had  run  into  a  party  of  Indian 
hunters.  One  of  their  number  had  been  killed  in 
the  encounter,  and  one  of  Ward's  horses  had  been 
wounded. 

At  the  end  of  five  miles  we  came  in  sight  of 
hundreds  of  Indians,  advancing  up  the  creek  to 
meet  us. 

They  formed  a  complete  line  on  our  front.  Gen- 
eral Carr,  who  wanted  to  strike  their  village,  or- 
dered the  troops  to  charge,  break  through  the  line, 
and  keep  straight  on. 

No  doubt  this  movement  would  have  been  suc- 
cessfully executed  had  it  not  been  for  the  dare- 
devil, rattle-brained  Lieutenant  Schinosky,  com- 
manding Company  B.    Misunderstanding  the  or- 


180      BUFFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STORY 

ders,  he  charged  on  the  Indians  on  the  left,  while 
the  rest  of  the  command  swept  through  the  line. 
The  main  hody  was  keeping  straight  on  toward 
the  village  when  it  was  discovered  that  Schinosky 
and  his  company  were  surrounded  hy  five  hundred 
Indians. 

To  save  the  company,  General  Carr  was  forced 
to  order  a  halt  and  hurry  back  to  the  rescue.  Dur- 
ing the  short  fight  Schinosky  had  several  men  and 
a  number  of  horses  killed. 

Valuable  time  had  been  consumed  by  the  rescue. 
Night  was  coming  on.  The  Indians  were  fighting 
desperately  to  keep  us  from  reaching  their  village, 
whose  population,  having  been  informed  by  cour- 
ier of  what  was  going  on,  was  packing  up  and 
getting  away. 

During  the  afternoon  we  had  all  we  could  do 
to  hold  our  o^vn  with  the  mounted  warriors.  They 
stayed  stubbornly  in  our  front,  contesting  every 
inch  of  ground. 

The  wagon-train,  which  had  been  ordered  to 
come  up,  had  not  arrived.  Fearful  that  it  had 
been  surrounded.  General  Carr  ordered  the  com- 
mand to  return  and  look  for  it.  We  found  it  at 
nine  o'clock  that  night,  and  went  into  camp. 

Next  morning,  when  we  moved  down  the  creek, 
not  an  Indian  was  to  be  seen.  Village  and  all, 
they  had  disappeared.  Two  miles  down  the 
stream  we  came  to  a  spot  where  the  village  had 
been  located.  Here  we  found  many  articles  which 
had  been  left  in  the  hurry  of  flight.  These  we 
gathered  up  and  burned. 


BUFFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STORY      181 

The  trail,  which  we  followed  as  rapidly  as  pos- 
sible, led  northeast  toward  the  Eepubliean  River. 
On  reaching  that  stream  a  halt  was  ordered.  Next 
morning  at  daylight  we  again  pulled  out.  We 
gained  rapidly  on  the  Indians,  and  could  occa- 
sionally see  them  from  a  distance. 

About  eleven  o'clock  that  morning,  while  Major 
Babcock  was  ahead  with  his  company,  and  as  we 
were  crossing  a  deep  ravine,  we  were  surprised 
by  perhaps  three  hundred  warriors.  They  at  once 
began  a  lively  fire.  Our  men  galloped  out  of  the 
ravine  to  the  rough  prairie  and  returned  it.  We 
soon  succeeded  in  driving  the  enemy  before  us. 
At  one  time  we  were  so  close  upon  them  that  they 
threw  away  most  of  their  lodges  and  camp  equip- 
ment, and  left  their  played-out  horses  behind  them. 
For  miles  we  could  see  Indian  furniture  strewn 
in  all  directions. 

Soon  they  scattered  into  small  bodies,  dividing 
the  trail.  At  night  our  horses  began  to  give  out, 
and  a  halt  was  called.  A  company  was  detailed  to 
collect  all  the  loose  Indian  ponies,  and  to  burn  the 
abandoned  camp  equipment. 

We  were  now  nearly  out  of  rations.  I  was  sent 
for  supplies  to  the  nearest  supply  point,  old  Fort 
Kearney,  sixty  miles  distant. 

Shortly  after  this  the  command  reached  Fort 
McPherson,  which  for  some  time  thereafter  con- 
tinued to  be  the  headquarters  of  the  Fifth  Cavalry. 
We  remained  there  for  ten  days,  fitting  out  for 
a  new  expedition.  We  were  reenforced  by  three 
companies  of  the  celebrated  Pawnee  Indian  Scouts, 


182      BUFFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STOEY 

commanded  by  Major  Frank  North.  At  General 
Carr's  recommendation  I  was  now  made  cMef  of 
scouts  in  the  Department  of  the  Platte,  with  bet- 
ter pay.    I  had  not  sought  this  position. 

I  became  a  firm  friend  of  Major  North  and  his 
officers  from  the  start.  The  scouts  had  made  a 
good  reputation  for  themselves.  They  had  per- 
formed brave  and  valuable  services  in  fighting 
against  the  Sioux,  whose  bitter  enemies  they  were. 
During  our  stay  at  Fort  McPherson  I  made  the 
acquaintance  of  Lieutenant  George  P.  Belden, 
known  as  **The  White  Chief.''  His  life  has  been 
written  by  Colonel  Brisbin,  of  the  army.  Belden 
was  a  dashing  rider  and  an  excellent  shot.  An 
hour  after  our  introduction  he  challenged  me  to 
a  rifle  match,  which  was  at  once  arranged. 

We  were  to  shoot  ten  shots  each  at  two  hun- 
dred yards  for  fifty  dollars  a  side.  Belden  was 
to  use  a  Henry  rifle.  I  was  to  shoot  my  old  **Lu- 
cretia."  This  match  I  won.  Belden  at  once  pro- 
posed another,  a  hundred-yard  match,  as  I  was 
shooting  over  his  distance.  This  he  won.  We 
y^ere  now  even,  and  we  stopped  right  there. 

While  we  were  at  Fort  McPherson,  General 
Augur  and  Brevet-Brigadier-General  Thomas 
JDuncan,  colonel  of  the  Fifth  Cavalry,  paid  us  a 
visit  for  the  purpose  of  reviewing  our  command. 
The  men  turned  out  in  fine  style,  and  showed 
themselves  to  be  well-drilled  soldiers.  Next  the 
Pawnee  scouts  were  reviewed.  It  was  amusing  to 
see  them  in  their  full  uniform.  They  had  been 
supplied  with  the  regular  cavalry  uniform,  but 


BUFFALO  BILLYS  OWN  STORY      183 

on  this  occasion  some  of  them  had  heavy  over- 
coats, others  large  black  hats  with  all  the  brass 
accoutrements  attached;  some  were  minus  trous- 
ers and  wore  only  breech-clouts.  Some  had  regu- 
lation pantaloons,  but  only  shirts.  Part  of  them 
had  cut  the  breech  of  their  pantaloons  away,  leav- 
ing only  the  leggings.  Still  others  had  big  brass 
spurs,  but  wore  no  boots  nor  moccasins. 

But  they  understood  the  drill  remarkably  well 
for  Indians.  The  commands  were  given  them 
by  Major  North,  who  spoke  their  tongue  as  readily 
as  any  full-blooded  Pawnee.  They  were  well 
mounted,  and  felt  proud  of  the  •  fact  that  they 
were  regular  United  States  soldiers.  That  eve- 
ning after  the  drill  many  ladies  attended  the 
dance  of  the  Indians.  Of  all  savages  I  have  ever 
seen,  the  Pawnees  are  the  most  accomplished 
dancers. 

Our  command  set  out  on  the  trail  the  next 
day.  Shortly  afterward,  when  we  were  encamped 
on  the  Republican  River  near  the  mouth  of  the 
Beaver,  we  heard  the  yells  of  Indians,  followed 
by  shots,  in  the  vicinity  of  our  mule  herd,  which 
had  been  driven  down  to  water. 

Presently  one  of  the  herders,  with  an  arrow 
still  quivering  in  his  flesh,  came  dashing  into  the 
camp. 

My  horse  was  close  at  hand.  Mounting  him 
bareback,  I  galloped  after  the  mule  herd,  which 
had  been  stampeded.  I  supposed  that  I  would 
be  the  first  man  on  the  scene.  But  I  found  I  was 
mistaken.     The  Pawnee  scouts,  unlike  regular 


184      BUFFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STOEY 

soldiers,  had  not  waited  for  the  formality  of  or- 
ders from  their  officers.  Jumping  their  ponies 
bareback  and  putting  ropes  in  the  animals' 
mouths,  they  had  hurried  to  the  place  from  which 
the  shots  came  and  got  there  before  I  did. 

The  marauders  proved  to  be  a  party  of  fifty 
or  more  Sioux,  who  had  endeavored  to  stampede 
our  animals.  They  were  painfully  surprised  to 
find  their  inveterate  enemies,  the  Pawnees,  com- 
ing toward  them  at  full  gallop.  They  had  no 
idea  the  Pawnees  were  with  the  command.  They 
knew  that  it  would  take  regular  soldiers  a  few 
minutes  to  turn  out,  and  fancied  they  would 
have  plenty  of  time  to  stampede  the  herd  and  get 
away. 

In  a  running  fight  of  fifteen  or  twenty  miles 
several  of  the  Sioux  were  killed.  I  was  mounted 
on  an  excellent  horse  Colonel  Royal  had  selected 
for  me.  For  the  first  mile  or  two  I  was  in  ad- 
vance of  the  Pawnees.  Soon  a  Pawnee  shot  past 
me.  I  could  not  help  admiring  the  horse  he  was 
riding.  I  determined  that  if  possible  that  horse 
should  be  mine.  He  was  a  big  buckskin,  or  yellow 
horse.  I  took  a  careful  look  at  him,  so  as  to 
recognize  him  when  we  got  back  to  camp. 

After  the  chase  was  over  I  rode  over  to  Major 
North  and  asked  him  about  the  animal.  I  was 
told  that  he  was  one  of  the  favorite  steeds  of 
the  command. 

"What  chance  is  there  to  trade  for  himT'  I 
asked. 

**It  is  a  Government  horse,"  replied  the  Ma- 


BUFFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STOEY      185 

jor.  **The  Indian  who  rides  him  is  very  much 
attached  to  him." 

I  told  Major  North  I  had  fallen  in  love  with 
the  horse,  and  asked  if  he  had  any  objections 
to  my  trying  to  secure  him.  He  replied  that  he 
had  not.  A  few  days  later,  after  making  the 
Indian  several  presents,  I  persuaded  him  to  trade 
horses  with  me.  In  this  way  I  became  possessed 
of  the  buckskin,  although  he  still  remained  Gov- 
ernment property.  I  named  him  Buckskin  Joe, 
and  he  proved  to  be  a  second  Brigham. 

I  rode  him  during  the  summers  of  '69,  70,  71, 
and  72.  He  was  the  horse  ridden'  by  the  Grand 
Duke  Alexis  on  his  buffalo  hunt.  In  the  winter 
of  72,  after  I  had  left  Fort  McPherson,  Buckskin 
Joe  was  condemned  and  sold  at  public  sale  to 
Dave  Perry  at  North  Platte.  In  1877  he  pre- 
sented him  to  me.  He  remained  on  my  ranch 
on  the  Dismal  River  for  many  years,  stone  blind, 
until  he  died. 

At  the  end  of  twenty  days,  after  a  few  un- 
important running  fights,  we  found  ourselves 
back  to  the  Republican  River. 

Hitherto  the  Pawnee  scouts  had  not  taken  much 
interest  in  me.  But  while  at  the  camp  I  gained 
their  respect  and  admiration  by  showing  them 
how  to  kill  buffaloes.  Though  they  were  excellent 
buffalo  killers,  for  Indians,  I  had  never  seen  them 
kill  more  than  four  or  five  animals  in  one  run. 
A  number  of  them  would  surround  a  herd  and 
dash  in  on  it,  each  one  killing  from  one  to  four 
buffaloes.    I  had  gone  out  in  company  with  Major 


186      BUFFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STORY 

North,  and  watched  them  make  a  ** surround.'* 
Twenty  Pawnees,  circling  a  herd,  killed  thirty- 
two  buffaloes. 

As  they  were  cutting  up  the  animals,  another 
herd  appeared.  The  Pawnees  were  getting  ready 
to  surround  it,  when  I  asked  Major  North  to  keep 
them  back  to  let  me  show  them  what  I  could  do. 
He  did  as  I  requested.  I  knew  Buckskin  Joe  was 
a  good  buffalo  horse,  and,  feeling  confident  that 
I  would  astonish  the  Indians,  I  galloped  in  among 
the  herd.  I  did  astonish  them.  In  less  than  a 
half-mile  run  I  dropped  thirty-six,  killing  a  buffalo 
at  nearly  every  shot.  The  dead  animals  were 
strung  out  over  the  prairie  less  than  fifty  feet 
apart.  This  manner  of  killing  greatly  pleased 
the  Indians.  They  called  me  *^Big  Chief,''  and 
thereafter  I  had  a  high  place  in  their  esteem. 

We  soon  left  the  camp  and  took  a  westward 
course  up  the  Republican  River.  Major  North, 
with  two  companies  of  his  Pawnees,  and  Colonel 
Royal,  with  two  or  three  companies  of  cavalry, 
made  a  scout  north  of  the  river. 

After  making  camp  on  the  Blacktail  Deer  Fork 
we  observed  a  band  of  Indians  coming  over  the 
prairie  at  full  gallop,  singing  and  yelling  and 
waving  their  lances  and  long  poles.  We  first  sup- 
posed them  to  be  the  hostile  Sioux,  and  for  a  few 
moments  all  was  excitement.  But  the  Pawnees, 
to  our  surprise,  made  no  effort  to  go  out  to  attack 
them.  Presently  they  began  singing  themselves. 
Major  North  walked  over  to  General  Carr  and 
said: 


BUFFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STORY      187 

**  General,  those  are  our  men.  They  had  had  a 
fight.  That  is  the  way  they  act  when  they  com© 
back  from  battle  with  captured  scalps." 

The  Pawnees  came  into  camp  on  the  run.  We 
soon  learned  that  they  had  run  across  a  party  of 
Sioux  who  were  following  a  big  Indian  trail.  The 
Sioux  had  evidently  been  in  a  fight.  Two  or  three 
had  been  wounded,  and  were  being  carried  by 
the  others.  The  Pawnees  ** jumped''  them,  and 
killed  three  or  four  of  their  number. 

Next  morning  our  command  came  up  to  the 
Indian  trail  where  the  Sioux  had  been  found.  We 
followed  it  for  several  days.  From  the  number 
of  campfires  we  passed  we  could  see  that  we  were 
gaining  on  the  Sioux. 

Wherever  they  had  camped  we  found  the  print 
of  a  woman's  shoe.  This  made  us  all  the  more 
eager  to  overtake  them,  for  it  was  plain  that  they 
had  a  white  woman  as  their  captive. 

All  the  best  horses  were  selected  by  the  general, 
and  orders  were  given  for  a  forced  march.  The 
wagon-train  was  to  follow  as  rapidly  as  possible, 
while  the  command  pushed  on  ahead. 

I  was  ordered  to  pick  out  five  or  six  of  the  best 
Pawnees  and  proceed  in  advance  of  the  command, 
keeping  ten  or  twelve  miles  ahead,  so  that  when 
the  Indians  were  overtaken  we  could  learn  the 
location  of  their  camp,  and  give  the  troops  the 
required  information  in  time  to  plan  an  effective 
attack. 

When  we  were  ten  miles  in  advance  of  the  regi- 
ment we  began  to  move  cautiously.    We  looked 


188      BUFFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STOEY 

carefully  over  the  summits  of  the  hills  before  ex- 
posing ourselves  to  observation  from  the  front. 
At  last  we  made  out  the  village,  encamped  in  the 
sandhills  south  of  the  South  Platte  River  at  Sum- 
mit Springs. 

Here  I  left  the  Pawnees  to  watch,  while  I  rode 
back  to  the  command  and  informed  General  Carr 
that  the  Lidians  were  in  sight. 

The  men  were  immediately  ordered  to  tighten 
their  saddles  and  otherwise  to  prepare  for  action. 
I  changed  my  horse  for  old  Buckskin  Joe.  He 
had  been  led  for  me  up  to  this  time,  and  was 
comparatively  fresh.  Acting  on  my  suggestion. 
General  Carr  made  a  circuit  to  the  north.  I  knew 
that  if  the  Indians  had  scouts  out  they  would 
naturally  watch  in  the  direction  whence  they  had 
come.  When  we  had  passed  the  camp,  and  were 
between  it  and  the  river,  we  turned  and  started 
back. 

By  this  maneuver  we  avoided  detection  by  the 
Sioux  scouts.  The  general  kept  the  command 
wholly  out  of  sight  until  within  a  mile  of  the 
village.  Then  the  advance  guard  was  halted  till 
all  the  soldiers  caught  up.  Orders  were  issued 
that  at  the  'sound  of  the  charge  the  whole  com- 
mand was  to  rush  into  the  village. 

As  we  halted  on  the  sununit  of  the  hill  over- 
looking the  still  unsuspecting  Sioux,  General  Carr 
called  to  his  bugler : 

*  *  Sound  the  charge ! ' ' 

The  bugler,  in  his  excitement,  forgot  the  notes 
of  the  call.    Again  the  general  ordered  **  Sound 


BUFFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STORY      189 

the  charge!''  and  again  the  musician  was  unable 
to  obey  the  command. 

Quartermaster  Hays,  who  had  obtained  permis- 
sion to  join  the  command,  comprehended  the  plight 
of  the  bugler.  Rushing  up  to  him,  he  seized  the 
bugle,  and  sounded  the  call  himself,  in  clear,  dis- 
tinct tones.  As  the  troops  rushed  forward  he 
threw  the  bugle  away,  and,  drawing  his  pistol, 
was  among  the  first  to  enter  the  village.  The 
Indians  had  just  driven  up  their  horses  and  were 
preparing  to  move  camp  when  they  saw  the  sol- 
diers. 

'Many  of  them  jumped  on  their  ponies,  and, 
leaving  everything  behind  them,  advanced  to  meet 
the  attack.  On  second  thought,  however,  they  de- 
cided it  would  be  useless  to  resist.  Those  who 
were  mounted  rode  away,  while  those  on  foot  fled 
for  the  neighboring  hills.  We  charged  through 
their  village,  shooting  right  and  left  at  everything 
we  saw.  Pawnees,  officers,  and  regular  soldiers 
were  all  mixed  together,  while  the  Sioux  went 
flying  away  in  every  direction. 

The  general  had  instructed  the  soldiers  to  keep 
a  sharp  look-out  for  white  women  when  they  en- 
tered the  village.  Two  were  soon  found.  One 
of  them  was  wounded,  and  the  other  had  just  been 
killed.  Both  were  Swedes,  and  the  survivor  could 
not  speak  English. 

A  Swedish  soldier  was  soon  found  to  act  as 
interpreter.  The  woman's  name  was  Weichel. 
She  said  that  as  soon  as  the  Indians  saw  the 
troops  coming,  a  squaw,  the  wife  of  Tall  Bull, 


190      BUFFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STOEY 

had  killed  Mrs.  Alerdice,  her  companion  in  cap- 
tivity, with  a  hatchet.  The  infuriated  squaw  had 
attacked  Mrs.  Weichel,  wounding  her.  The  pur- 
pose of  the  squaw  was  apparently  to  prevent  both 
women  from  telling  the  soldiers  how  cruelly  they 
had  been  treated. 

The  attack  lasted  but  a  little  while.  The  In- 
dians were  driven  several  miles  away.  The  sol- 
diers gathered  in  the  herd  of  Indian  horses,  which 
was  running  wild  over  the  prairie,  and  drove  the 
animals  back  into  camp.  After  a  survey  of  our 
work  we  found  we  had  killed  about  one  hundred 
and  forty  Indians  and  captured  one  hundred  and 
twenty  squaws  and  papooses,  two  hundred  lodges, 
and  eight  hundred  horses  and  mules. 

General  Carr  ordered  that  all  the  tepees,  lodges, 
buffalo  robes,  camp  equipage,  and  provisions,  in- 
cluding a  large  quantity  of  buffalo  meat,  should 
be  gathered  and  burned.  Mrs.  Alerdice,  the  mur- 
dered Swedish  captive,  was  buried.  Captain  Kane 
read  the  burial  service,  as  we  had  no  chaplain 
with  us.  While  this  was  going  on,  the  Sioux  war- 
riors recovered  from  their  panic  and  came  back 
to  give  us  battle.  All  around  the  attack  a  fight 
began.  I  was  on  the  skirmish  line,  and  noticed 
an  Indian  who  was  riding  a  large  bay  horse,  and 
giving  orders  to  his  men  in  his  own  language. 

I  could  understand  part  of  what  he  said.  He 
was  telling  them  that  they  had  lost  everything 
and  were  ruined,  and  was  entreating  them  to 
follow  him  until  they  died.  The  horse  this  chief 
was  riding  was  extremely  fleet.    I  determined  to 


BUFFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STOEY      191 

capture  him  if  possible,  but  I  was  afraid  to  fire 
at  the  rider  lest  I  kill  the  horse. 

Often  the  Indian,  as  he  rode  around  the  skirmish 
line,  passed  the  head  of  a  ravine.  It  occurred 
to  me  that  if  I  dismounted  and  crept  up  the  ravine, 
I  could,  as  he  passed,  easily  drop  him  from  the 
saddle  with  no  fear  of  hitting  the  horse.  Accord- 
ingly I  crept  into  the  ravine  and  secreted 
myself  there  to  wait  till  Mr.  Chief  came  rid- 
ing by. 

When  he  was  not  more  than  thirty  yards  away 
I  fired.  The  next  instant  he  tumbled  from  the 
saddle,  and  the  horse  kept  on  his  way  without 
a  rider.  Instead  of  running  back  to  the  Indians, 
he  galloped  toward  the  soldiers,  by  one  of  whom 
he  was  caught. 

Lieutenant  Mason,  who  had  been  very  conspic- 
uous in  the  fight  and  had  killed  two  or  three  In- 
dians himself,  came  galloping  up  the  ravine,  and, 
jumping  from  his  horse,  secured  the  elaborate 
war-bonnet  from  the  head  of  the  dead  chief,  to- 
gether with  all  his  other  accoutrements. 

We  both  rejoined  the  soldiers.  I  started  in 
search  of  the  horse,  and  found  him  in  the  pos- 
session of  Sergeant  McGrath,  who  had  captured 
him.  McGrath  knew  that  I  had  been  trying  to 
get  the  horse,  and  he  had  seen  me  kill  its  rider. 
He  handed  the  animal  over  to  me  at  once.  I  little 
thought  at  the  time  that  I  had  captured  the  fastest 
running  horse  west  of  the  Missouri  River,  but  this 
later  proved  to  be  the  fact. 

Late  that   evening   our  wagon-train   arrived. 


192      BUFFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STOEY 

Mrs.  Weichel,  the  wounded  woman,  had  been  care- 
fully attended  by  the  surgeons,  and  we  placed 
her  in  the  ambulance.  Gathering  up  the  prisoners, 
squaws,  and  papooses,  we  set  out  for  the  South 
Platte  Eiver,  eight  miles  distant,  where  we  went 
into  camp. 

Next  morning,  by  order  of  General  Carr,  all 
the  money  found  in  the  village  was  turned  over 
to  the  adjutant.  Above  two  thousand  dollars  was 
collected,  and  the  entire  amount  was  given  to 
Mrs.  Weichel. 

The  command  now  proceeded  to  Fort  Sedgwick, 
from  which  point  the  particulars  of  our  fight, 
which  took  place  Sunday,  July  11,  1869,  was  tele- 
graphed to  all  parts  of  the  country. 

During  our  two  weeks '  stay  at  this  Post,  Gen- 
eral Augur,  of  the  Department  of  the  Platte,  made 
us  a  visit,  and  complimented  the  command  highly 
on  the  gallant  service  it  had  performed.  Tall 
Bull  and  his  Indians  had  long  been  a  terror  to 
the  border  settlements.  For  their  crushing  de- 
feat, and  the  killing  of  the  chief.  General  Carr 
and  the  command  were  complimented  in  General 
Orders. 

Mrs.  Weichel  was  cared  for  in  the  Post  hos- 
pital. After  her  recovery  she  married  the  hos- 
pital steward.  Her  former  husband  had  been 
killed  by  the  Indians.  Our  prisoners  were  sent 
to  the  Whetstone  Agency,  on  the  Missouri,  where 
Spotted  Tail  and  the  friendly  Sioux  were  then 
living.  The  captured  horses  and  mules  were  dis- 
tributed among  the  officers  and  soldiers. 


BUFFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STOEY      193 

Among  the  animals  which  I  thus  obtained  were 
my  Tall  Bull  horse  and  a  pony  which  I  called 
Powder  Face.  This  animal  figured  afterward  in 
the  stories  of  **Ned  Buntline/'  and  became  fa- 
mous. 

One  day,  while  we  were  waiting  at  Fort  Mo- 
Pherson,  General  Carr  received  a  telegram  an- 
nouncing that  the  Indians  had  made  a  dash  on 
the  Union  Pacific,  killing  several  section  men  and 
running  off  stock  of  0 'Fallouts  Station.  An  ex- 
pedition was  going  out  of  Fort  McPherson  to 
catch  and  punish  the  redskins  if  possible. 

I  was  ordered  by  General  Carr  to  accompany 
this  expedition.  That  night  I  proceeded  by  rail 
to  Fort  McPherson  Station,  and  from  there  rode 
horseback  to  the  fort.  Two  companies,  under 
conunand  of  Major  Brown,  had  been  ordered  out. 
Next  morning,  as  we  were  about  to  start,  Major 
Brown  said  to  me : 

**By  the  way,  Cody,  we're  going  to  have  a  char- 
acter with  us  on  this  scout.  It's  old  *Ned  Bunt- 
line,'  the  novelist." 

At  the  same  time  I  saw  a  stoutly  built  man 
near  by  who  wore  a  blue  military  coat.  On  his 
breast  were  pinned  perhaps  twenty  badges  of 
secret  societies  and  gold  medals.  He  limped  a 
little  as  he  approached  me,  and  I  concluded  that 
this  must  be  the  novelist. 

**He  has  a  good  mark  to  shoot  at  on  his  left 
breast,"  I  said  to  Brown,  **but  he  looks  like  a 
soldier."  I  was  introduced  to  him  by  his  real 
name,  which  was  Colonel  E.  Z.  C.  Judson. 


194      BUFFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STORY 

**I  was  to  deliver  a  temperance  lecture  to- 
night," said  my  new  acquaintance,  **but  no  lec- 
ture for  me  when  there  is  a  prospect  of  a  fight. 
The  major  has  offered  me  a  horse,  but  I  don't 
know  how  I  shall  stand  the  ride." 

I  assured  him  that  he  would  soon  feel  at  home 
in  the  saddle,  and  we  set  out.  The  command 
headed  for  the  North  Platte,  which  had  been 
swollen  by  mountain  rains.  Li  crossing  we  had 
to  swim  our  horses.  Buntline  was  the  first  man 
across. 

We  reached  0 'Fallon's  Station  at  eleven  o'clock. 
In  a  short  time  I  succeeded  in  finding  an  Indian 
trail.  The  party  of  Indians,  which  had  come  up 
from  the  south,  seemed  to  be  a  small  one.  We 
followed  the  track  of  the  Indians,  to  the  North 
Platte,  but  they  had  a  start  of  two  days.  Major 
Brown  soon  abandoned  the  pursuit,  and  returned 
to  Fort  Sedgwick.  During  this  short  scout.  Bunt- 
line  had  plied  me  with  questions.  He  was  anxious 
to  go  out  on  the  next  scout  with  me. 

By  this  time  I  had  learned  that  my  horse,  Tall 
Bull,  was  a  remarkably  fast  runner.  Therefore, 
when  Lieutenant  Mason,  who  owned  a  racer,  chal- 
lenged me  to  a  race,  I  inunediately  accepted.  We 
were  to  run  our  horses  a  single  dash  of  a  half 
mile  for  five  hundred  dollars  a  side. 

Several  of  the  officers,  as  well  as  Rube  Wood, 
the  post-trader,  offered  to  make  side  bets  with 
me.  I  took  them  up  until  I  had  my  last  cent  on 
Tall  Bull. 

I  saw  from  the  start  that  it  would  be  easy  to 


BUFFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STOEY      195 

"beat  the  lieutenant's  horse,  and  kept  Tall  Bull 
in  check,  so  that  no  one  might  know  how  fast  he 
really  was.  I  won  easily,  and  pocketed  a  snug 
sum.  Everybody  was  now  talking  horse  race. 
Major  Brown  said  that  if  Tall  Bull  could  beat 
the  Pawnees'  fast  horse,  I  could  break  his  whole 
command. 

The  next  day  all  the  troops  were  paid  off,  in- 
cluding the  Pawnees.  For  two  or  three  days  our 
Indian  allies  did  nothing  but  run  horses,  as  all 
the  lately  captured  animals  had  to  be  tested  to 
determine  which  was  the  swiftest.  Finally  the 
Pawnees  offered  to  run  their  favorite  against  Tall 
Bull.  They  raised  three  hundred  dollars  to  bet 
on  their  horse,  and  I  covered  the  money.  In  addi- 
tion I  took  numerous  side  bets.  The  race  was  a 
single  dash  of  a  mile.  Tall  Bull  won  without  any 
trouble,  and  I  was  ahead  on  this  race  about  seven 
hundred  dollars. 

I  also  got  up  a  race  for  my  pony.  Powder  Face, 
against  a  fast  pony  belonging  to  Major  Lute 
North,  of  the  Pawnee  Scouts.  I  selected  a  small 
boy  living  at  the  Post  for  a  jockey.  Major  North 
rode  his  own  pony.  The  Pawnees,  as  usual, 
wanted  to  bet  on  their  pony,  but  as  I  had  not 
yet  ascertained  the  running  qualities  of  Powder 
Face  I  did  not  care  to  risk  much  on  him.  Had 
I  known  him  as  well  as  I  did  afterward  I  would 
have  backed  him  with  every  cent  I  had.  He  proved 
to  be  one  of  the  swiftest  ponies  I  ever  saw,  and 
had  evidently  been  kept  as  a  racer. 

The  dash  between  the  ponies  was  to  be  four 


196      BUFFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STOEY 

hundred  yards.  When  I  led  Powder  Face  over 
the  course  he  seemed  to  understand  what  he  was 
there  for.  North  was  on  his  pony;  my  boy  was 
up.  I  had  all  I  could  do  to  hold  the  fiery  little 
fellow  back.  He  was  so  lively  on  his  feet  that  I 
feared  his  young  rider  might  not  be  able  to  stick 
on  his  back. 

At  last  the  order  to  start  was  given  by  the 
judges.  I  brought  Powder  Face  up  to  the  score, 
and  the  word  *'Go!''  was  given.  So  swiftly  did 
he  jump  away  that  he  left  his  rider  sitting  on 
the  ground.  Nevertheless  he  went  through  and 
won  the  race  without  a  rider.  It  was  an  easy  vic- 
tory, and  after  that  I  could  get  no  more  races. 

General  Carr  having  obtained  a  leave  of  ab- 
sence. Colonel  Koyal  was  given  command  of  an 
expedition  that  was  ordered  to  go  out  after  the 
Indians.  In  a  few  days  we  set  out  for  the  Ke- 
publican,  where,  we  had  learned,  there  were  plenty 
of  Indians. 

At  Frenchman's  Fork  we  discovered  a  village, 
but  did  not  surprise  it,  for  the  Indians  had  seen 
us  approaching  and  were  in  retreat  as  we  reached 
their  camping-place. 

We  chased  them  down-stream  and  through  the 
sandhills,  but  they  made  better  time  than  we  did, 
and  the  pursuit  was  abandoned. 

While  we  were  in  the  sandhills,  scouting  the 
Niobrara  country,  the  Pawnee  Indians  brought 
into  camp  some  very  large  bones,  one  of  which 
the  surgeon  of  the  expedition  pronounced  to  be 
the  thigh  bone  of  a  human  being.    The  Indians 


BUFFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STORY      197 

said  the  bones  were  those  of  a  race  of  people  who 
long  ago  had  lived  in  that  country.  They  said 
these  people  were  three  times  the  size  of  a  man 
of  the  present  day,  that  they  were  so  swift  and 
strong  that  they  could  run  by  the  side  of  a  buffalo, 
and,  taking  the  animal  in  one  arm,  could  tear  off 
a  leg  and  eat  it  as  they  ran. 

These  giants,  said  the  Lidians,  denied  the  ex- 
istence of  a  Great  Spirit.  When  they  heard  the 
thunder  or  saw  the  lightning,  they  laughed  and 
declared  that  they  were  greater  than  either.  This 
so  displeased  the  Great  Spirit  that  he  caused  a 
deluge.  The  water  rose  higher' and  higher  till  it 
drove  these  proud  giants  from  the  low  grounds 
to  the  hills  and  thence  to  the  mountains.  At  last 
even  the  mountaintops  were  submerged  and  the 
mammoth  men  were  drowned. 

After  the  flood  subsided,  the  Great  Spirit  came 
to  the  conclusion  that  he  had  made  men  too  large 
and  powerful.  He  therefore  corrected  his  mis- 
take by  creating  a  race  of  the  size  and  strength 
of  the  men  of  the  present  day.  This  is  the  reason, 
the  Indians  told  us,  that  the  man  of  modern  times 
is  small  and  not  like  the  giants  of  old.  The  story 
has  been  handed  down  among  the  Pawnees  for 
generations,  but  what  is  its  origin  no  man  can  say. 


CHAPTER  Vn 

One  morning,  in  the  spring  of  1870,  a  band  of 
horse-stealing  Indians  raided  four  ranches  near 
the  month  of  Fremont  Creek,  on  the  North  Platte. 
After  scooping  np  horses  from  these  ranches  they, 
proceeded  to  the  Fort  McPherson  herd,  which  was 
grazing  above  the  Post,  and  took  about  forty  Gov- 
ernment animals.  Among  these  was  my  favorite 
little  pony.  Powder  Face. 

When  the  alarm  was  given,  **  Boots  and  Sad- 
dles" was  sounded.  I  always  kept  one  of  my 
best  horses  by  me,  and  was  ready  for  any  sur- 
prise. The  horse  that  I  saddled  that  day  was 
Buckskin  Joe. 

As  I  galloped  for  the  herd,  I  saw  the  Indians 
kill  two  of  the  herders.  Then,  circling  all  the 
horses  toward  the  west,  they  disappeared  over  a 
range  of  hills.  I  hurried  back  to  the  camp  and 
told  the  general  that  I  knew  where  to  pick  up  the 
trail.  Company  I,  commanded  by  a  little  red- 
headed chap — ^Lieutenant  Earl  D.  Thomas — ^was 
the  first  to  report,  mounted,  at  the  adjutant's 
office.  Thomas  had  but  lately  graduated  from 
West  Point. 

His  sole  instructions  were:  *' Follow  Cody  and 
be  off  quick.''  As  he  rode  away  General  Emory 
called  after  him:  **I  will  support  you  with  more 
troops  as  fast  as  they  are  saddled." 

198 


BUFFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STOEY      199 

The  lieutenant  followed  me  on  the  run  to  the 
spot  where  I  saw  the  Indians  disappear.  Though 
the  redskins  had  an  hour  and  a  half  start  on  us, 
we  followed  them,  on  a  gallop,  till  we  could  see 
that  they  had  begun  to  drive  their  horses  in  a 
circle,  and  then  in  one  direction  after  another, 
making  the  trail  uncertain.  It  was  getting  dark, 
but  I  succeeded  in  keeping  on  some  of  the 
tracks. 

All  that  night  the  Indians  endeavored,  by  scat- 
tering their  horses,  to  throw  us  off  the  trail.  At 
three  o'clock  in  the  morning  I  made  up  my  mind 
that  they  were  traveling  for  the  headwaters  of 
Medicine  Creek,  and  headed  straight  in  that  direc- 
tion. 

We  found  that  they  had  reached  the  creek, 
but  remained  there  only  long  enough  to  water 
their  horses.  Then  they  struck  off  to  the  south- 
west. I  informed  Lieutenant  Thomas  that  the 
next  water  was  at  the  Springs  at  the  head  of 
Eed  Willow  Creek,  thirty-five  miles  away.  The 
Indians,  I  said,  would  stop  there. 

Thomas's  men  had  not  had  time  to  bring  so 
much  as  their  coats  with  them.  At  the  alarm 
they  grabbed  their  sidearms  and  carbines  and 
ammunition  belts,  and  leaped  into  their  saddles. 
None  of  us  had  had  anything  to  eat  since  dinner 
the  day  before.  In  the  whole  outfit  there  was 
not  a  canteen  in  which  to  carry  water. 

I  notified  Thomas  that  he  must  decide  whether 
the  troop  was  to  undergo  the  terrible  hardship 
of  riding  a  whole  day  without  food  or  water,  on 


200      BUFFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STOEY 

the  chance  of  overtaking  the  Indians  and  getting 
their  rations  and  supplies  away  from  them.  He 
replied  that  the  only  instructions  he  had  received 
from  General  Emory  were  to  follow  me.  I  said 
that  if  it  were  left  to  me,  I  would  follow  the  In- 
dians. 

**You  have  heard  Cody,"  said  Thomas  to  his 
men.  **Now,  I  would  like  to  hear  what  you  men 
think  ahout  if 

Through  their  first  sergeant  they  said  they  had 
followed  Cody  on  many  a  long  trail,  and  were 
willing  to  follow  him  to  the  end  of  this  one.  So 
the  order  to  mount  was  given,  and  the  trail  was 
taken  up.  Several  times  that  day  we  found  the 
Indians  had  resorted  to  their  old  tactics  of  go- 
ing in  different  directions.  They  split  the  herd 
of  horses  in  bunches,  and  scattered  them.  It  was 
very  hard  to  trail  them  at  good  speed. 

Forty  hours  without  food,  and  twelve  hours 
without  water,  we  halted  for  a  council  when  dark- 
ness set  in. 

I  told  Thomas  that  when  we  got  within  three 
miles  of  the  Springs  the  men  could  rest  their 
horses  and  get  a  little  sleep,  while  I  pushed  on 
ahead  to  look  for  the  Indians.  This  was  done. 
[When  we  reached  the  spot  I  had  designated  the 
saddles  were  removed,  so  that  the  horses  could 
graze  and  roll.    I  rode  on  ahead. 

As  I  had  suspected  I  should,  I  found  the  In-; 
dians  encamped  at  the  Springs  with  the  stocK 
grazing  around  them.  As  quickly  as  possible  I 
got  back  to  the  command  with  my  news.     The 


BUFFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STOBY      201 

horses  were  quietly  saddled  and  we  proceeded, 
seldom  speaking  or  making  any  noise. 

As  we  rode  along  I  gave  the  lieutenant  and  first 
sergeant  the  description  of  the  camp  and  sug- 
gested  that  it  could  be  best  approached  just  at 
daylight.  We  had  but  forty-one  men.  Ten  of 
these,  I  said,  should  be  detailed  to  take  charge- 
of  the  herd,  while  the  lieutenant  and  I  charged 
the  camp. 

The  Indians  were  encamped  on  a  little  knoll, 
around  which  was  miry  ground,  making  a  cavalry 
charge  difficult.  The  Indians  numbered  as  many 
as  we  did.  The  safest  plan  was  to  dismount  some 
of  the  men,  leaving  others  to  hold  the  horses,  and 
proceed  to  the  attack  on  foot.  The  rest  of  the 
men  were  to  remain  with  their  horses,  and  get 
through  the  marshy  ground  mounted,  if  they 
could. 

A  halt  was  called,  and  this  was  explained  to 
the  men.  It  didn't  take  them  long  to  understand. 
We  approached  very  cautiously  till  we  got  within 
a  quarter  of  a  mile  of  the  Indians.  Then  the 
charge  was  sounded.  We  did  not  find  the  land 
as  miry  as  we  had  supposed.  Dashing  in  among 
the  Indians,  we  completely  surprised  them.  Most 
of  them  grabbed  the  guns,  with  which  they  al- 
ways slept,  and  fled  to  the  marsh  below  the  camp. 
Others  ran  for  their  horses.  It  was  fortunate 
that  we  had  dismounted  ten  men.  These  were 
able  to  follow  the  Indians  who  had  escaped  to 
the  marsh. 

When  we  made  the  charge  my  chief  thought 


202      BUFFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STOEY 

was  to  keep  a  lookout  for  my  pony,  Powder  Face, 
Soon  I  saw  an  Indian,  mounted  on  him,  making 
his  escape.  I  rushed  through  the  camp,  shoot- 
ing to  the  left  and  right,  but  keeping  a  beeline 
after  Powder  Face  and  his  rider.  Soon  another 
Indian  who  was  afoot  leaped  up  behind  Powder 
Face's  rider.  I  knew  that  the  little  animal  was 
very  swift  for  a  short  distance,  but  that  he  would 
be  badly  handicapped  by  the  weight  of  two  men. 

I  realized  that  my  old  Buckskin  Joe  was  tired, 
but  his  staying  qualities  were  such  that  I  was 
sure  he  would  overtake  Powder  Face,  carrying 
double  weight. 

Though  I  was  not  a  hundred  yards  behind  the 
object  of  my  pursuit  when  the  second  Indian 
mounted  I  was  afraid  to  shoot.  It  was  not  yet 
quite  daylight.  I  feared  to  fire  lest  I  hit  my  be- 
loved pony.  For  two  miles  I  followed  through 
the  sandhills  before  I  dared  to  use  my  rifle. 

The  Indian  riding  at  the  rear  had  a  revolver 
with  which  he  kept  banging  away,  but  I  paid  little 
attention  to  him.  I  knew  a  man  shooting  behind 
with  a  pistol  was  likely  to  hit  nothing  but  air. 
At  last  I  took  a  steady  aim  while  old  Joe  was 
running  smoothly.  The  bullet  not  only  hit  the 
rear  man,  but  passed  through  him  and  killed  the 
man  in  front. 

They  both  fell.  I  took  another  shot  to  make 
sure  they  were  not  playing  'possum.  As  they 
fell,  Powder  Face  stopped  and  looked  around,  to 
learn  what  it  was  all  about.  I  called  to  him,  and 
he  came  up  to  me. 


BUFFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STORY      203 

Both  Indians  were  wearing  beautiful  war-bon- 
nets, of  which  I  took  possession,  as  well  as  of 
their  fancy  trappings.  Then,  taking  Powder 
Face  by  the  rope,  I  led  him  back  to  the 
Springs  to  see  how  the  lieutenant  had  made 
out. 

The  herd  of  horses  was  held  and  surrounded  by 
a  few  soldiers.  The  rest  were  still  popping  at  the 
Indians.  But  most  of  the  redskins  were  either 
hidden  among  the  marshes,  or  had  got  clear  away 
to  the  surrounding  hills. 

I  found  the  lieutenant,  and  told  him  I  thought 
we  had.  accomplished  all  that  was  possible.  The 
orderly  sounded  the  recall.  I  have  never  seen  a 
muddier  set  of  boys  than  those  who  came  out  of 
the  marsh  and  began  rummaging  around  the  In- 
dian camp.  We  soon  discovered  two  or  three 
hundred  pounds  of  dried  meat — ^buffalo,  deer,  and 
antelope,  also  a  little  coffee  and  sugar  and  an 
old  kettle  and  tin  cups  which  the  Indians  had 
used. 

All  the  men  by  this  time  had  all  the  water  they 
wanted.  Each  was  chewing  a  piece  of  dried  meat. 
Pickets  were  posted  to  prevent  a  surprise.  Soon 
coffee  was  ready.  In  a  short  time  everybody  was 
filled  up,  and  I  told  Thomas  we  had  better  be 
getting  out  of  there. 

Many  of  the  men  began  saddling  the  stolen 
horses,  so  as  to  rest  their  own.  The  lieutenant 
was  eager  to  remain  and  rest  until  the  reenforce- 
ments  that  General  Emory  had  promised  should 
arrive. 


204      BUFFALO  BILLYS  OWN  STOKY 

**  Your  orders  were  to  follow  me,  weren't  they?" 
I  asked. 

**Yes." 

'*Well,  then,  keep  on  following  me,  and  you'll 
soon  see  the  reason  for  getting  out  of  here." 

**A11  right,"  he  agreed.  **IVe  heard  the  gen- 
eral say  that  in  a  tight  place  your  directions 
should  always  be  followed." 

With  most  of  the  men  driving  the  captured 
horses  we  started  for  Fort  McPherson.  I  didn't 
take  the  trail  that  we  had  followed  in.  I  knew 
of  a  shorter  route,  and  besides,  I  didn't  want 
to  meet  the  support  that  was  coming.  I  knew  the 
officer  in  command,  and  was  sure  that  if  he  came 
up  he  would  take  all  the  glory  of  the  capture 
away  from  Lieutenant  Thomas.  Naturally  I 
wanted  all  the  credit  for  Thomas  and  myself  as 
we  were  entitled  to. 

The  soldiers  that  had  been  sent  out  after  us 
found  and  destroyed  the  village,  but  we  did  not 
meet  them.  They  discovered  seven  or  eight  dead 
Indians,  and  there  were  a  few  more  down  in  the 
marsh  which  they  overlooked.  The  major  in  com- 
mand sent  out  scouts  to  find  our  trail.  Texas 
Jack,  who  was  on  this  duty,  returned  and  re- 
ported that  he  had  found  it,  and  that  we  were 
going  back  to  the  fort  by  another  route. 

The  major  said:  ** That's  another  of  those 
tricks  of  Cody's.  He  will  guide  Thomas  back  and 
he  will  get  all  the  glory  before  I  can  overtake 
him." 

We  rode  into  Fort  McPherson  about  six  o'clock 


BUFFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STDET      205 

that  evening.  I  told  Thomas  to  make  his  report 
immediately,  which  he  did.  General  Emory  com- 
plimented him  highly,  and  Thomas  generously 
said  that  all  he  did  was  to  obey  orders  and  follow 
Cody.  A  report  was  made  to  General  Sheridan, 
and  the  next  day  that  officer  wired  Thomas  his 
congratulations. 

The  next  day  the  command  that  was  sent  out 
after  us  returned  to  the  fort.  The  major  was 
hotter  than  a  wounded  coyote.  He  told  the  gen- 
eral that  it  was  all  my  fault,  and  that  he  did  not 
propose  to  be  treated  in  any  such  manner  by  any 
scout,  even  if  it  were  General  Sheridan's  pet,  Buf- 
falo Bill.  He  was  told  by  the  general  that  the 
less  he  said  about  the  matter  the  better  it  would 
be  for  him.  This  was  Lieutenant  Thomas's  first 
raid,  and  he  was  highly  elated  with  its  success. 
He  hoped  he  would  be  mentioned  for  it  in  Special 
Orders,  and  sure  enough,  when  the  Special  Or- 
ders came  along  both  he  and  myself,  together 
with  the  little  command,  received  complimentary 
mention.  This  Thomas  richly  deserved,  for  he  was 
a  brave,  energetic,  and  dashing  officer.  I  gave 
him  the  two  war-bonnets  I  had  taken  from  the 
Indians  I  shot  from  the  back  of  Powder  Face, 
asking  that  he  present  them  to  the  daughters  of 
General  Augur,  who  were  then  visiting  the  Post. 

Shortly  after  our  return  another  expedition 
was  organized,  with  the  Eepublican  Kiver  coun- 
try as  its  destination.  It  was  commanded  by  Gen- 
eral Duncan,  a  blusterer,  but  a  jolly  old  fellow. 
The  officers  who  knew  him  well  said  we  would 


206      BUFFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STOEYi 

have  a  fine  time,  as  he  was  very  fond  of  hunting. 
He  was  a  good  fighter.  It  was  rumored  that  an 
Indian's  bullet  could  never  hurt  him.  A  cannon- 
ball,  according  to  report,  had  hit  him  in  the  head 
without  injuring  him  at  all,  while  another  can- 
non-ball, glancing  off  his  skull,  had  instantly 
killed  one  of  the  toughest  mules  in  the  army ! 

The  Pawnee  scouts,  who  had  been  mustered 
out  of  service  during  the  winter  of  1869  and  70, 
were  reorganized  to  accompany  this  expedition. 
I  was  glad  of  this.  I  had  become  very  much 
attached  to  Major  North,  one  of  the  officers,  and 
to  many  of  the  Indians.  Beside  myself  the  only 
white  scout  we  had  in  the  Post  at  this  time  was 
John  Y.  Nelson,  whose  Indian  name  was  Cha-Sha-. 
Cha-Opeyse,  or  Eed-Willow-Fill-the-Pipe.  The 
man  was  a  character.  He  had  a  squaw  wife  and  a 
half-breed  family.  He  was  a  good  fellow,  but  had 
few  equals  and  no  superiors  as  a  liar. 

With  the  regimental  band  playing  '*The  Girl 
I  Left  Behind  Me ' '  we  started  out  from  the  Post. 
A  short  march  brought  us  to  the  head  of  Fox 
Creek,  where  we  camped.  Next  morning  General 
Duncan  sent  me  word  that  I  was  to  bring  my  rifle 
and  shoot  at  a  mark  with  him.  I  did  not  feel 
like  shooting  at  anything  except  myself,  for  the 
night  before  I  had  been  interviewing  the  sutler's 
store,  in  company  with  Major  Brown.  When  I 
looked  for  my  gun,  I  found  that  I  had  left  it  be- 
hind me.  I  got  cold  consolation  from  Major 
Brown  when  I  informed  him  of  my  loss.  Then 
I  told  him  that  the  general  had  sent  for  me  to 


BUFFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STORY      207 

shoot  a  match  with  him,  and  that  it  the  old  man 
discovered  my  predicament  there  would  be  trouble. 

**Well,  Cody/'  said  the  major,  **the  best  thing 
you  can  do  is  to  make  some  excuse,  and  then  go 
and  borrow  a  gun  from  one  of  the  men.  Tell  the 
general  you  loaned  your  rifle  to  someone  for  a 
hunt.  While  you  are  gone  I  will  send  back  to  the 
Post  for  it." 

I  got  a  gun  from  John  Nelson,  and  marched  to 
the  generaPs  headquarters,  where  I  shot  the 
match.    It  resulted  in  his  favor. 

General  Duncan,  who  had  never  before  com- 
manded the  Pawnee  Scouts,  confused  them  by 
posting  the  guards  in  a  manner  that  was  new  to 
them.  Furthermore,  he  insisted  that  the  guards 
should  call  the  hours  through  the  night:  **Nine 
o'clock  and  all  is  well,"  etc.,  giving  the  numbers 
of  their  posts.  Few  of  the  scouts  understood 
English.    They  were  greatly  troubled. 

Major  North  explained  to  them  that  when  the 
man  on  the  post  nearest  them  called  the  hour, 
they  must  repeat  the  call  as  closely  as  they  could. 
It  was  highly  amusing  to  hear  them  do  this.  They 
would  try  to  remember  what  the  man  on  the  next 
post  had  said.  For  example,  when  a  white  soldier 
called  out  **Post  Number  One,  Half-past  Nine 
and  all  is  well!"  the  Indians  would  cry  out  **Poss 
Number  half -pass  five  cents  go  to  h — ^1  I  don't 
care."  So  ridiculous  were  their  efforts  to  repeat 
the  calls,  that  the  general  finally  gave  it  up  and 
countermanded  the  order. 

One  day,  after  an  uneventful  march,  Major 


208      BUFFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STOEY 

North  and  I  went  out  on  Prairie  Dog  Creek  in 
advance  of  the  command  to  kill  some  buffaloes. 
Night  was  approaching,  and  we  looked  about  for 
a  suitable  camping-place  for  the  soldiers.  Major 
North  dismounted  and  was  resting,  while  I  rode 
down  to  the  creek  to  see  if  there  was  plenty  of 
grass  in  the  vicinity. 

I  found  an  excellent  camping  spot,  and  told 
North  I  would  ride  over  the  hill  a  little  way,  so 
that  the  advance  guard  might  see  me.  This  I 
did,  and  when  the  advance  guard  came  in  sight 
I  dismounted  and  lay  down  upon  the  grass  to 
rest. 

Suddenly  I  heard  three  or  four  shots.  In  a 
moment  Major  North  came  dashing  toward  me, 
pursued  by  eight  or  ten  Indians.  I  at  once  sprang 
to  the  saddle  and  sent  several  shots  toward  the 
Indians,  fifty  or  more  of  whom  were  now  in  sight. 
Then  we  turned  our  horses  and  ran. 

The  bullets  sang  after  us.  My  whip  was  shot 
from  my  hand,  and  the  daylight  was  let  through 
the  crown  of  my  hat.  We  were  in  close  quarters, 
when  Lieutenant  Valknar,  with  several  men,  came 
galloping  to  our  relief.  The  Indians,  discovering 
them,  whirled  and  fled. 

As  soon  as  Major  North  sighted  his  Pawnees 
he  began  riding  in  a  circle,  which  was  the  signal 
to  them  that  there  were  hostile  Indians  in  front. 
In  an  instant  they  broke  ranks  pell-mell,  with 
the  major  at  their  head,  and  went  after  the 
flying  warriors. 

The  second  day  that  we  had  been  following  the 


BUFFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STOEY      209 

Indians  we  came  npon  an  old  squaw  who  had 
been  left  on  the  prairie  to  die.  Her  people  had 
built  for  her  a  little  shade  or  lodge,  and  had 
given  her  some  provisions — enough  to  last  her 
trip  to  the  Happy  Hunting-Grounds.  This  is 
often  done  by  the  Indians  when  an  enemy  is  in 
pursuit  and  one  of  their  number  becomes  too 
feeble  to  keep  pace  with  the  flight. 

Our  scout,  John  Nelson,  recognized  the  squaw 
as  a  relative  of  his  Indian  wife.  From  her  we 
learned  that  the  redskins  we  were  pursuing  were 
known  as  the  Pawnee  Killer  band.  They  had 
lately  killed  Buck's  surveying  party,  consisting 
of  eight  or  nine  men.  This  massacre  had  occurred 
a  few  days  before  on  Beaver  Creek.  We  had 
found  a  number  of  surveying  instruments  in  the 
abandoned  camp,  and  knew  therefore  that  the 
Indians  had  had  a  fight  with  white  men.  After 
driving  the  Indians  across  the  Platte  we  returned 
to  Fort  McPherson,  bringing  with  us  the  old 
squaw,  who  was  sent  to  the  Spotted  Tail  Agency. 

During  my  absence  my  wife  had  given  birth 
to  a  son.  Though  he  was  several  weeks  old  when 
I  returned  no  name  had  been  given  him.  I  called 
him  Elmo  Judson,  in  honor  of  Colonel  Judson, 
whose  pen  name  was  **Ned  Buntline."  But  the 
officers  insisted  upon  calling  him  Kit  Carson  Cody 
and  it  was  finally  settled  that  this  should  be  his 
name. 

Shortly  after  my  return  I  received  orders  in- 
structing me  to  accompany  Professor  Marsh  on 
a  fossil-hunting  expedition  into  the  rough  lands 


210      BUFFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STOKY 

of  the  Big  Horn  Basin.  The  party  was  to  con- 
sist of  a  number  of  scientists  besides  Professor 
Marsh,  together  with  twenty-five  students  from 
Yale,  which  institution  was  sending  out  the  ex- 
pedition. 

I  was  to  get  together  thirty-five  saddle-horses 
for  the  party.  The  quartermaster  arranged  for 
the  transportation,  pack  mules,  etc.  But  General 
Sheridan,  under  whose  direction  the  scientists 
were  proceeding,  always  believed  in  my  ability  to 
select  good  horses  from  a  quartermaster's  herd. 

In  a  few  days  Professor  Marsh  and  his  com- 
panions ^arrived.  The  Pawnee  Scouts,  then  in 
camp,  had  a  year  before  unearthed  some  immense 
fossil  bones,  so  it  was  decided  that  Major  North, 
with  a  few  of  these  scouts,  should  also  accom- 
pany the  expedition.  Professor  Marsh  had  heard 
of  this  discovery,  and  was  eager  to  find  some  of 
the  same  kind  of  fossils. 

Professor  Marsh  believed  that  the  Basin  would 
be  among  the  last  of  the  Western  lands  to  be 
settled.  The  mountain  wall  which  surrounded  it 
would  turn  aside  pioneers  going  to  Montana  or 
northern  Oregon.  These  would  head  to  the  east 
of  Big  Horn  Mountains,  while  those  bound  for 
Utah,  Idaho,  and  California  would  go  to  the  south 
side  of  the  Wind  Eiver  Mountains.  He  was  con- 
fident, however,  that  some  day  the  Basin  would 
be  settled  and  developed,  and  that  in  its  fertile 
valleys  would  be  found  the  most  prosperous  peo- 
ple in  the  world.  It  was  there  that  my  interest 
in  the  great  possibilities  of  the  West  was  aroused. 


BUFFALO  BILLYS  OWN  STORY      211 

I  never  forgot  wliat  I  heard  around  the  camp- 
fire.  In  1894  the  Carey  Irrigation  Act  was  passed 
by  Congress.  A  million  acres  of  land  was  given 
to  each  of  the  arid  States.  I  was  the  first  man 
to  receive  a  concession  of  two  hundred  thousand 
acres  from  the  Wyoming  State  Land  Board. 

I  could  not  get  away  to  the  Basin  till  late  in 
the  autumn  of  1894,  so  I  formed  a  partnership 
with  George  T.  Beck,  who  proceeded  to  Wyoming, 
^here  he  was  found  by  Professor  Elwood  Mead, 
then  in  the  service  of  the  State.  There  a  site 
was  located  and  the  line  of  an  irrigation  canal 
was  surveyed. 

A  town  was  laid  out  along  the  canal,  and  my 
friends  insisted  upon  naming  it  Cody.  At  this 
time  there  was  no  railroad  in  the  Big  Horn  Basin ; 
but  shortly  afterward  the  Burlington  sent  a  spur 
out  from  its  main  line,  with  Cody  as  its  terminus. 
In  1896  I  went  out  on  a  scout  to  locate  the  route 
of  a  wagon  road  from  Cody  into  the  Yellowstone 
Park.  This  was  during  Mr.  McKinley's  first  ad- 
ministration. 

I  went  to  Washington,  saw  the  President,  and 
explained  to  him  the  possibilities  of  a  road  of 
eighty  miles,  the  only  one  entering  the  National 
Park  from  the  East.  It  would  be,  I  told  him,  the 
most  wonderful  scenic  road  in  the  West.  Mr. 
Roosevelt  ordered  the  building  of  this  road,  which 
has  now  become  the  favorite  automobile  route 
into  the  Park.  Today  the  Big  Horn  Basin  is 
one  of  the  richest  of  American  oil  lands,  and  the 
Pennsylvania  of  the  West  for  coal  production. 


212      BUFFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STOEY 

Every  one  of  the  prophecies  that  Professor  Marsh 
made  to  us  around  that  campfire  has  come  true. 

In  December,  1870,  I  was  sent  as  a  witness  to 
Fort  D.  A.  Russell,  near  the  city  of  Cheyenne, 
where  a  court-martial  was  to  be  held.  Before 
leaving  home  my  wife  had  given  me  a  list  of  arti- 
cles she  needed  for  the  furnishing  of  our  house. 
These  I  promised  to  purchase  in  Cheyenne. 

On  arriving  at  Fort  Russell  I  found  many  offi- 
cers, also  witnesses  at  the  court-martial,  and  put 
in  most  of  my  time  with  them.  A  postponement 
of  a  week  gave  us  an  opportunity  to  *  *  do "  Chey- 
enne. That  town  furnished  abundant  opportuni- 
ties for  entertainment,  as  there  was  every  kind 
of  game  in  operation,  from  roulette  to  horse-rac- 
ing. I  sent  for  my  horse.  Tall  Bull,  and  a  big 
race  was  arranged  between  him  and  a  Cheyenne 
favorite  called  Green's  Colt.  But  before  Tall  Bull 
could  arrive  the  court-martial  was  over  and  the 
race  was  off.  I  sold  the  animal  to  Lieutenant 
Mason.  I  met  many  old  friends  in  Cheyenne, 
among  them  R.  S.  Van  Tassell,  Tim  Dier,  Major 
Talbot,  Luke  Morrin,  Posey  Wilson,  and  many 
others.  They  constituted  a  pretty  wild  bunchy 
and  kept  me  so  busy  that  I  had  no  time  to  think 
about  Mrs.  Cody's  furniture. 

On  my  return,  when  she  asked  us  for  it,  I  told 
her  I  couldn't  bring  it  with  me  on  the  train,  and 
that  moreover  there  were  no  stores  in  Cheyenne 
where  I  could  get  furniture  that  would  be  good 
enough  for  her,  so  I  had  sent  to  Dewey  &  Stone 
at  Omaha  for  what  she  needed. 


BUFFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STORY      213 

I  lost  no  time  in  getting  over  to  the  club, 
where  I  wrote  to  Dewey  &  Stone  for  all  the 
articles  my  wife  required.  In  a  week  the  fur- 
niture arrived  at  Fort  McPherson  station.  I 
got  a  couple  of  six-mule  teams  and  went 
after  it  quick.  When  it  arrived  at  the  house 
and  was  unpacked  Mrs.  Cody  was  greatly  de- 
lighted. 

About  this  time  General  Emory  was  very  much 
annoyed  by  petty  offenses  in  the  vicinity  of  the 
Post  by  civilians  over  whom  he  had  no  jurisdic- 
tion. There  was  no  justice  of  the  peace  near  the 
Post,  and  he  wanted  some  kind  of  an  officer  with 
authority  to  attend  to  these  troublesome  persons. 
One  day  he  told  me  that  I  would  make  an  excellent 
justice. 

'*You  compliment  me  too  highly,  General,"  I 
replied.  **I  don't  know  any  more  about  law  than 
a  Government  mule  knows  about  bookkeeping. 
*  *  That  doesn  't  make  any  difference, ' '  he  said.  *  *  I 
know  you  will  make  a  good  squire.  You  accom- 
pany Mr.  Woodin  and  Mr.  Snell  to  North  Platte 
in  my  private  ambulance.  They  will  go  on  your 
bond,  and  you  will  be  appointed  a  justice  of  the 
peace." 

A  number  of  officers  from  the  Post  went  to 
North  Platte  for  this  occasion.  After  I  was  duly 
sworn  in,  there  was  a  celebration.  I  arrived  home 
at  three  o'clock  in  the  morning,  Mrs.  Cody  still 
being  in  ignorance  of  my  newly  acquired  honor. 
I  was  awakened  by  hearing  her  arguing  with  a 
man  at  the  door  who  was  asking  for  the  squire. 


214      BUFFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STOEY 

She  was  assuring  him  that  no  squire  was  on  the 
premises. 

** Doesn't  Buffalo  Bill  live  here?''  asked  the 
man. 

'*  Yes,"  admitted  Mrs.  Cody,  *^but  what  has  that 
got  to  do  with  it?" 

By  this  time  I  had  dressed,  and  I  went  to  the 
door.  I  informed  my  wife,  to  her  amazement, 
that  I  was  really  a  squire,  and  turned  to  the  vis- 
itor to  learn  his  business. 

He  was  a  poor  man,  he  said,  on  his  way  to  Colo- 
rado. The  night  before  a  large  bunch  of  horses 
was  being  driven  past  his  camp,  and  one  of  his 
two  animals  was  driven  off  with  the  herd.  Mount- 
ing the  other,  he  followed  and  demanded  the  horse, 
but  the  boss  of  the  herd  refused  to  give  it  up. 
He  wanted  a  writ  of  replevin. 

I  asked  Mrs.  Cody  if  she  could  write  a  writ  of 
replevin  and  she  said  she  had  never  heard  of 
such  a  thing.    I  hadn't  either. 

I  asked  the  man  in,  and  Mrs.  Cody  got  breakfast 
for  us.  He  refused  the  drink  I  set  out  for  him. 
I  felt  that  I  needed  a  good  deal  of  bracing  in 
this  writ  of  replevin  business,  so  I  drank  his  as 
well  as  mine. 

Then  I  buckled  on  my  revolver,  took  down 
my  old  Lucretia  rifle,  and,  patting  her  gently, 
said:  **You  will  have  to  be  constable  for  me 
today. ' ' 

To  my  wife  and  children,  who  were  anxiously 
watching  these  proceedings,  I  said: 

** Don't  be  alarmed.    I  am  a  judge  now,  and 


BUFFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STORY      215 

I  am  going  into  action.  Come  on,  my  friend,"  I 
said  to  the  stranger,  **get  on  your  horse." 

**Why,"  he  protested,  **you  have  no  papers  to 
serve  on  the  man,  and  you  have  no  constable." 

** Don't  worry,"  I  said.  *^I'll  soon  show  you 
that  I  am  the  whole  court." 

I  mounted  Joe,  and  we  galloped  along  about 
ten  miles  when  we  overtook  the  herd  of  horses. 
I  found  the  boss,  riding  a  big  gray  horse  ahead 
of  the  herd.    I  ordered  him  to  round  up  the  herd. 

**By  what  authority?"  he  demanded.  *^Are 
you  a  constable?" 

I  said  I  was  not  only  a  constable,  but  the  whole 
court,  and  one  of  his  men  at  the  same  time  whis- 
pered to  him:  ^*Be  careful,  that  is  Buffalo  Bill!" 
At  this  time,  as  well  as  for  years  past,  I  had  been 
chief  United  States  detective  for  the  army  as  well 
as  scout  and  guide.  1  felt  that  with  the  offices 
of  justice  and  constable  added  to  these  titles  I 
had  all  the  power  necessary  to  take  one  horse. 

The  herd  boss  evidently  thought  so,  too.  After 
asking  if  my  name  were  Cody,  and  being  told  that 
it  was,  he  said : 

**Well,  there  is  no  need  of  having  a  fuss  over 
one  horse." 

**No,"  said  I,  **a  horse  doesn't  mean  much  to 
you,  but  it  amounts  to  a  good  deal  to  this  poor 
immigrant. ' ' 

**Well,"  said  the  herd  boss,  ^^how  do  you  pro- 
pose to  settle  it?" 

**I  am  going  to  take  you  and  your  whole  outfit 
to  Fort  McPherson.     There  I  am  going  to  try 


216      BUFFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STOKY 

you  and  give  you  the  limit — six  months  and  a 
five-hundred-dollar  fine. ' ' 

*^I  can't  afford  to  go  back  to  the  Fort,"  he 
pleaded,  *4et's  settle  it  right  here.  What  will 
you  take  to  call  it  off  f 

'*One  hundred  and  fifty  dollars,"  I  said,  '*and 
quick!" 

Beaching  down  into  his  pocket,  he  pulled  out 
a  wallet  filled  with  bills  and  counted  out  a  hun- 
dred and  fifty  dollars.  By  this  time  the  man 
who  had  lost  the  horse  had  caught  his  animal  in 
the  herd.    He  was  standing,  holding  it,  near  by. 

*^ Partner,"  I  said  to  him,  *'take  your  horse 
and  go  back  home." 

^*Now,  boss,"  I  said  to  the  other  man,  *4et 
me  give  you  a  little  advice.  Be  careful  when  a 
stranger  gets  into  your  herd  and  the  owner  over- 
takes you  and  demands  it.  You  may  run  into 
more  trouble  than  I  have  given  you,  for  you  ought 
to  know  by  this  time  that  horse-stealing  is  a  hang- 
ing offense." 

He  said:  **I  didn't  care  a  blank  about  your  be- 
ing justice  of  the  peace  and  constable  combined, 
but  when  I  found  out  you  were  Buffalo  Bill  it 
was  time  to  lay  down  my  hand. ' ' 

**A11  right,  old  fellow,"  I  said,  **good-by." 

As  he  rode  off  he  called:  **It  was  worth  a  hun- 
dred and  fifty  dollars  just  to  get  a  good  look  at 
you,"  and  the  other  men  agreed. 

By  the  time  I  got  back  to  the  fort,  guard-mount 
was  over,  and  a  number  of  officers  were  in  the 
club.    When  they  learned  how  I  had  disposed  of 


BUFFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STORY      217 

my  first  case,  they  told  tlie  general,  who  was  very 
much  pleased. 

**I  want  it  noised  about  among  the  outside 
civilians  how  you  handle  your  court,"  he  said. 
The  story  soon  became  known  all  over  the  sur- 
rounding country.  Even  the  ladies  of  the  Post 
heard  of  it,  and  told  my  wife  and  sisters,  to  whom 
I  had  never  mentioned  it.  They  looked  upon  it 
as  a  great  joke. 


CHAPTER  Vni 

Eaely  in  the  month  of  September,  1874,  word 
was  received  at  Fort  McPherson  that  General 
Sheridan  and  a  party  of  friends  were  coming  to 
the  Post  to  have  a  grand  hunt  in  the  vicinity. 
They  further  proposed  to  explore  the  country 
from  Fort  McPherson  to  Fort  Hays  in  Kansas. 
They  arrived  in  a  special  car  at  North  Platte, 
eighteen  miles  distant,  on  the  morning  of  Septem- 
ber 22. 

In  the  party  besides  General  Sheridan  were 
James  Gordon  Bennett,  of  The  New  York  Herald, 
Leonard  Lawrence  Jerome,  Carroll  Livingston, 
Major  J.  G.  Heckscher,  General  Fitzhug^,  General 
H.  E.  Davies,  Captain  M.  Edward  Rogers,  Colonel 
J.  Schuyler  Crosby,  Samuel  Johnson,  General  An- 
son Stager,  of  the  Western  Union,  Charles  Wil- 
son, editor  of  The  Chicago  Journal,  Quartermas- 
ter-General Rucker,  and  Dr.  Asch,  of  General 
Sheridan's  staff. 

They  were  met  at  the  station  by  General  Emory 
and  Major  Brown,  with  a  cavalry  company  as 
escort  and  a  sufficient  number  of  vehicles  to  carry 
the  distinguished  visitors  and  their  baggage. 

At  the  Fort  they  found  the  garrison,  under  the 
command  of  General  Carr,  on  parade  awaiting 
their  arrival. 

A  train  of  sixteen  wagons  was  provided  to 

218 


BUFFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STORY      219 

carry  the  baggage  supplies  and  forage  for  the 
hunting  trip.  Besides  these  there  were  three  or 
four  horse-ambulances  in  which  the  guns  were 
carried,  and  in  which  members  of  the  party  might 
ride  when  they  became  weary  of  the  saddle.  I 
accompanied  the  expedition  at  the  request  of  Gen- 
eral Sheridan.  He  introduced  me  to  everybody 
and  gave  me  a  good  send-off.  As  it  was  a  high- 
toned  outfit  I  was  to  accompany,  I  determined 
to  put  on  a  little  style  myself.  I  dressed  in  a  new 
suit  of  light  buckskin,  trimmed  along  the  seams 
with  fringe  of  the  same  material.  I  put  on  a 
crimson  shirt,  elaborately  decorated  on  the  bosom, 
and  selected  a  big  sombrero  for  my  head.  Then, 
mounting  a  showy  horse  which  was  a  gallant 
stepper,  I  rode  down  to  the  fort,  rifle  in  hand. 

The  expedition  was  soon  under  way.  First  in 
line  rode  General  Sheridan,  followed  by  his 
guests;  then  the  orderlies.  Then  came  the  am- 
bulances, in  one  of  which  were  carried  five  grey- 
hounds, brought  along  to  course  antelopes  and 
rabbits. 

With  the  ambulance  marched  a  pair  of  Indian 
ponies  belonging  to  Lieutenant  Hayes,  captured 
during  an  Indian  fight.  These  were  harnessed 
to  a  light  wagon,  which  General  Sheridan  occa- 
sionally used.  These  little  animals,  thirteen  hands 
high,  showed  more  vigor  and  endurance  than  any 
we  brought  with  us. 

During  our  first  night  in  camp  the  members 
of  the  party  asked  me  hundreds  of  questions 
about  buffaloes  and  buffalo  hunting.    The  entire 


220      BUFFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STOEY 

evening  was  spent  in  talk  about  buffaloes,  together 
with  stories  of  the  Plains,  the  chase,  and  the  war, 
which  was  then  fresh  in  the  minds  of  all  of  us. 
We  closed  the  evening  by  christening  the  camp, 
Camp  Brown,  in  honor  of  the  gallant  officer  who 
was  in  command  of  the  escort. 

We  breakfasted  at  four  the  next  morning  and 
at  six  we  were  in  the  saddle.  Everyone  was 
eager  to  see  the  buffaloes  which  I  had  promised 
would  be  met  with  during  the  day.  After  a  march 
of  five  miles  the  advance  guard  which  I  com- 
manded sighted  six  of  these  animals  grazing  about 
two  miles  away. 

Acting  upon  my  suggestion,  Lawrence  Jerome, 
Livingston,  Heckscher,  Fitzhugh,  Eogers,  and 
Crosby,  with  myself  as  guide,  rode  through  a 
convenient  canon  to  a  point  beyond  the  herd,  and 
to  windward  of  them;  the  rest  of  the  party  made 
a  detour  of  nearly  five  miles,  keeping  behind  the 
crest  of  a  hill. 

We  charged  down  on  the  buffaloes  at  full  gal- 
lop, and  just  then  the  other  party  emerged  from 
their  concealment  and  witnessed  the  exciting 
chase. 

The  buffaloes  started  away  in  a  line,  single 
file;  Fitzhugh,  after  a  lively  gallop,  led  us  all. 
Soon  he  came  alongside  the  rear  buffalo,  at  which 
he  fired.  The  animal  faltered,  and  with  another 
shot  Fitzhugh  brought  him  to  the  ground.  Crosby 
dashed  past  and  leveled  another  of  the  herd,  while 
Livingston  dropped  a  third.  Those  who  were 
not  directly  engaged  in  the  hunt  now  came  up  and 


BUFFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STORY      221 

congratulated  the  buffalo  killers.  Fitzhugh  was 
hailed  as  the  winner  of  the  Buffalo  Cup.  There 
was  general  sympathy  for  Heckscher,  whose  horse 
had  fallen  and  rolled  over  him,  thus  putting  him 
out  of  the  race. 

The  hunt  being  over,  the  column  moved  for- 
ward through  a  prairie-dog  town,  several  miles 
in  extent.  These  animals  are  found  throughout 
the  Plains,  living  together  in  a  sort  of  society. 
Their  numberless  burrows  in  their  towns  join 
each  other  and  the  greatest  care  is  necessary  in 
riding  among  them,  since  the  ground  is  so  under- 
mined as  easily  to  give  way  under  the  weight  of 
a  horse. 

Around  the  entrance  to  each  burrow  earth  is 
piled  to  the  height  of  at  least  a  foot.  On  these 
little  elevations  the  prairie-dogs  sit  on  their 
haunches,  chattering  to  each  other  and  observing 
whatever  passes  on  the  Plains. 

They  will  permit  a  person  to  approach  very 
closely,  but  when  they  have  viewed  him  they  dive 
into  their  holes  with  wonderful  celerity.  They 
are  difficult  to  kill.  If  hit  they  usually  succeed 
in  getting  underground  before  they  can  be  re- 
covered. 

Rattlesnakes  and  little  owls  are  found  in  great 
numbers  in  the  prairie-dog  towns,  living  in  the 
same  burrows.  We  killed  and  cooked  a  few  of 
the  prairie-dogs,  and  found  them  very  palatable. 

A  short  distance  beyond  the  prairie-dog  town 
w^e  found  a  settlement  of  five  white  men.  They 
proved  to  be  the  two  Clifford  brothers,  Arthur 


222      BUFFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STORY 

Ruff,  Dick  Seymour,  and  John  Nelson.  To  the 
last  I  have  already  referred.  Each  of  these  men 
had  a  squaw  for  a  wife  and  numerous  half-breed 
children.  They  lived  in  tents  of  buffalo  skins. 
They  owned  a  herd  of  horses  and  a  few  cattle, 
and  had  cultivated  a  small  piece  of  land.  Their 
principal  occupation  was  hunting,  and  they  had 
numbers  of  buffalo  hides,  which  they  had  tanned 
in  the  Indian  fashion. 

Upon  reaching  Pleasant  Valley  on  Medicine 
Creek  the  party  divided  into  two  detachments, 
one  hunting  along  the  bank  of  the  creek  for  elk 
and  deer,  the  other  remaining  with  the  main  body 
of  the  escort. 

The  elk  hunters  met  with  no  success  whatever, 
but  the  others  found  plenty  of  buffaloes  and  nearly 
everybody  killed  one  before  the  day  was  done. 
Lawrence  Jerome  made  an  excellent  shot.  He 
was  riding  in  an  ambulance,  and  killed  a  buffalo 
that  attempted  to  cross  the  line  of  march.  Upon 
crossing  the  Republican  River  on  the  morning 
of  the  twenty- sixth  we  came  upon  an  immense 
number  of  buffaloes  scattered  over  the  country 
in  every  direction.  All  had  an  opportunity  to 
hunt.  The  wagons  and  troops  moved  slowly  along 
toward  the  next  camp  while  the  hunters  rode  off 
in  twos  and  threes.  Each  hunter  was  rewarded 
with  abundant  success. 

Lawrence  Jerome  met  with  the  only  mishap. 
He  was  riding  Buckskin  Joe,  which  I  had  lent 
him,  and,  dismounting  to  get'  a  steady  shot, 
thoughtlessly  let  go  of  the  bridle. 


BUFFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STOEY      223 

The  horse  decided  to  do  a  little  hunting  on 
his  own  account.  When  last  seen  that  day  he  was 
ahead  of  the  buffaloes,  and  gaining,  while  his  late 
rider  was  left  to  his  own  reflections.  Three  days 
later  Joe,  saddled  and  bridled,  turned  up  at  Fort 
McPherson. 

We  pitched  our  camp  for  the  night  in  a  charm- 
ing spot  on  the  bank  of  Beaver  Creek.  The  game 
was  so  abundant  that  we  remained  there  the  next 
day.  This  stopping-place  was  called  Camp  Cody, 
in  honor  of  the  reader's  humble  servant.  The 
next  day  was  spent  in  hunting  jack-rabbits, 
coyotes,  elk,  antelope,  and  wild  turkeys. 

That  we  had  a  splendid  dinner  may  be  seen 
from  the  following 

BILL  OF  FAKE 

Soup 
Buffalo  TaU 

Fish 
Broiled  Cisco;  Fried  Dace 

Entries 

Salmi  of  Prairie   Dog;    Stewed   Rabbit;    Filet  of  Buffalo  aux 

Champignons 

Vegetables 
Sweet  Potatoes,  Mashed  Potatoes,  Green  Peas* 

Dessert 
Tapioca  Pudding 

.  Wines 
Champagne  Frapp6,  Champagne  au  Naturel,  Claret,  Whisky, 
Brandy,  Ale 

Coffee 

I  considered  this  a  fairly  good  meal  for  a  hunt- 
ing party.    Everybody  did  justice  to  it. 
The  excursionists  reached  Fort  Hays  on  the 


224      BUFFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STORY 

morning  of  October  second.  There  we  pitched  our 
tents  for  the  last  time.  That  same  afternoon  Gen- 
eral Sheridan  and  his  guests  took  the  train  for 
the  East.  They  expressed  themselves  as  highly 
pleased  with  the  hunt,  as  well  as  with  the  way 
they  had  been  guided  and  escorted. 

General  Davies  afterward  wrote  the  story  of 
this  hunt  in  a  volume  of  sixty-eight  pages,  called 
**Ten  Days  on  the  Plains.'*  In  this  chapter  I 
have  taken  the  liberty  of  condensing  frequently 
from  this  volume,  and  in  some  cases  have  used 
the  general's  exact  language.  I  ought  to  insert 
several  lines  of  quotations  marks,  to  be  pretty 
generally  distributed  through  the  foregoing  ac- 
count. 

After  the  departure  of  General  Sheridan's 
party  we  returned  to  Fort  McPherson,  and  found 
General  Carr  about  to  start  on  a  twenty  days' 
scout.  His  object  was  more  to  take  some  friends 
on  a  hunt  than  to  look  for  Indians.  His  guests 
were  a  couple  of  Englishmen  and  Mr.  McCarthy 
of  New  York,  the  latter  a  relative  of  General 
Emory.  The  command  consisted  of  three  com- 
panies of  the  Fifth  Cavalry,  one  company  of 
Pawnee  Scouts,  and  twenty-five  wagons.  Of 
course  I  was  called  to  accompany  the  expedi- 
tion. 

One  day,  after  we  had  been  out  for  some  little 
time,  I  arranged  with  Major  North  to  play  a 
joke  on  Mr.  McCarthy.  I  took  him  out  on  a  hunt 
about  eight  miles  from  the  camp,  informing  Major 
North  about  what  time  we  should  reach  there. 


BUFFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STORY      225 

He  had  agreed  that  he  would  appear  in  the  vicin- 
ity with  his  Indians,  who  were  to  throw  their 
blankets  around  them  and  come  dashing  down 
upon  us,  firing  and  whooping  in  the  true  Indian 
style. 

This  program  was  faithfully  carried  out.  I  had 
been  talking  about  Indians  to  McCarthy,  and  he 
had  become  considerably  excited,  when  just  as 
we  turned  a  bend  in  the  creek  we  saw  a  band  of 
them  not  half  a  mile  away.  They  instantly  started 
after  us  on  the  gallop,  yelling  and  shooting. 

** McCarthy,"  said  I,  ** shall  we  run  or  fight?" 

He  did  not  wait  to  reply.  Wheeling  his  horse, 
he  started  at  full  speed  down  the  creek.  He  lost 
his  gun  and  dropped  his  hat,  but  never  once  did 
he  look  back  to  see  if  he  were  pursued.  I  tried 
to  stop  him  by  shouting  that  the  Indians  were 
Pawnees  and  our  friends.  He  did  not  hear  me, 
but  kept  straight  on,  never  stopping  his  horse 
till  he  reached  the  camp. 

I  knew  he  would  tell  General  Carr  that  the  In- 
dians had  jumped  him,  and  that  the  general  would 
at  once  start  out  with  troops.  So  as  soon  as  the 
Pawnees  rode  up,  I  told  them  to  remain  there 
while  I  rode  after  my  friend. 

When  I  had  reached  camp,  he  had  given  the 
alarm,  and  the  general  had  ordered  out  two  com- 
panies of  cavalry  to  go  in  pursuit  of  the 
Indians. 

I  told  the  general  the  Indians  were  only 
Pawnees,  and  that  a  joke  had  been  put  up  on 
McCarthy.    I  neglected  to  tell  him  who  had  put 


226      BUFFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STOEY 

up  the  joke.  He  was  fond  of  a  joke  himself, 
and  did  not  get  very  angry.  I  had  picked  up 
McCarthy's  hat,  which  I  returned  to  him.  It 
was  some  time  before  it  was  discovered  who  was 
at  the  bottom  of  the  affair. 

It  was  while  I  was  stationed  at  Fort  McPherson, 
where  Brevet-Major-General  W.  H.  Emory  was 
in  command,  that  I  acted  as  guide  for  Lord  Flynn, 
an  English  nobleman  who  had  come  over  for  a 
hunt  on  the  Plains.  I  had  been  recommended  to 
him  by  General  Sheridan. 

Flynn  had  served  in  India  with  the  British 
army.  He  was  a  fine  sportsman  aud  a  splendid 
shot,  and  secured  many  heads  and  skins  while 
he  was  with  me.  Money  meant  little  to  him. 
He  insisted  on  paying  all  the  bills,  spending  his 
money  lavishly  on  both  officers  and  men  when 
he  was  at  the  Post. 

Once,  when  we  ran  out  of  liquid  refreshments 
while  on  the  hunt,  we  rode  thirty  miles  to  a  saloon, 
only  to  find  it  closed.  Lord  Flynn  inquired  the 
price  of  the  place,  found  it  to  be  $500  and  bought 
it.  When  we  left,  after  having  had  all  we  needed 
to  drink,  he  gave  it — house,  bar,  stock,  and  all — 
to  George  Dillard,  who  had  come  along  with  the 
party  as  a  sort  of  official  bartender. 

Sir  George  Watts-Garland  also  made  a  hunt 
with  us.  He  was  an  excellent  hunter  and  a  thor- 
ough gentleman,  but  he  lacked  the  personality 
that  made  Lord  Flynn  one  of  the  most  popular 
visitors  who  ever  came  to  the  Post. 

Early  in  January,  1872,  General  Forsythe  and 


BUFFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STORY      227 

Dr.  Asch,  of  General  Sheridan's  staff,  came  to 
Fort  McPherson  to  make  preparations  for  a  grand 
buffalo  hunt  to  be  conducted  for  the  Grand  Duke 
Alexis.  General  Sheridan  was  desirous  of  giving 
the  Russian  nobleman  the  hunt  of  his  life.  He 
wanted  everything  ready  when  the  Grand  Duke 
arrived,  so  that  he  need  lose  no  time  at  the  Post. 

By  way  of  giving  their  distinguished  guest  a 
real  taste  of  the  Plains,  the  two  officers  asked 
me  to  visit  the  camp  of  the  Sioux  chief.  Spotted 
Tail,  and  ask  him  to  bring  a  hundred  of  his 
warriors  to  the  spot  on  Red  Willow  Creek,  which, 
at  my  suggestion,  had  been  selected  as  the  Grand 
Duke's  camp. 

Spotted  Tail  had  permission  from  the  Govern- 
ment to  hunt  buffalo,  a  privilege  that  could  not 
be  granted  to  Indians  indiscriminately,  as  it  in- 
volved the  right  to  carry  and  use  firearms.  You 
couldn't  always  be  sure  just  what  kind  of  game 
an  Indian  might  select  when  you  gave  him  a  rifle. 
It  might  be  buffalo,  or  it  might  be  a  white  man. 
But  Spotted  Tail  was  safe  and  sane.  Hence  the 
trust  that  was  reposed  in  him. 

Forsythe  and  Asch,  after  accompanying  me  to 
the  site  I  had  found  for  the  camp,  returned  to 
the  Post,  while  I  set  out  to  confer  with  Mr.  Spotted 
Tail.  The  weather  was  very  cold,  and  the  jour- 
ney was  by  no  means  a  delightful  one.  I  was 
obliged  to  camp  out  with  only  my  saddle-blankets 
to  protect  me  from  the  weather,  and  only  my 
vigilance  to  protect  me  from  the  Indians.  Spotted 
Tail  himself  was  friendly,  but  some  of  his  young 


228      BUFFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STOKY 

men  were  decidedly  hostile.  My  activities  as  a 
scout  had  made  me  many  enemies  among  the 
Sionx,  and  it  is  not  their  nature  easily  to  forget 
old  grudges. 

At  the  close  of  the  first  day  I  made  camp  on 
a  tributary  of  Frenchman's  Fork,  and  built  a 
little  fire.  The  night  was  bitter  cold,  and  I  was 
so  busy  keeping  warm  that  I  got  very  little  sleep. 
The  next  afternoon  I  began  to  notice  fresh  horse 
tracks  and  the  carcasses  of  recently  killed  buffa- 
loes. I  knew  that  I  was  nearing  an  Indian  camp. 
It  was  not  policy  to  ride  boldly  in  among  the 
Indians,  as  some  of  them  might  be  inclined  to 
shoot  me  first  and  discover  later  that  I  was  a 
friend  of  Spotted  Tail.  So  I  hid  my  horse  in  a 
low  ravine  and  crawled  up  a  hill,  from  whose  sum- 
mit I  obtained  a  good  view  of  the  country. 

When  night  fell,  I  rode  into  camp  unobserved. 
As  I  entered  the  camp  I  wrapped  my  blanket, 
Indian  fashion,  about  my  head,  so  that  the  red- 
skins would  not  at  once  recognize  me  as  a  white 
man.  Then  I  hunted  about  till  I  found  Spotted 
Tail's  lodge.  The  old  chief  was  stretched  lazily 
out  on  a  pile  of  robes  as  I  looked  in.  He  knew 
who  I  was  and  invited  me  to  enter. 

In  the  lodge  I  found  Todd  Randall,  an  old 
white  frontiersman,  who  was  Spotted  Tail's  friend 
and  agent,  and  who  had  lived  a  great  many  years 
with  the  Indians.  Randall,  who  spoke  the  Sioux 
jargon  perfectly,  did  the  interpreting,  and  through 
him  I  readily  communicated  to  the  chief  the  ob- 
ject of  my  visit. 


BUFFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STORY      229 

I  said  that  the  warriors  and  chiefs  would  greatly 
please  General  Sheridan  if  they  would  meet  him 
in  about  ten  sleeps  at  the  old  Government  cross- 
ing at  the  Red  Willow.  I  said  that  a  great  chief 
from  far  across  the  water  was  coming  to  visit 
them,  and  that  he  was  especially  anxious  to  meet 
the  greatest  of  the  Indian  chiefs. 

Spotted  Tail  replied  that  he  would  be  very 
glad  to  go.  He  added  that  on  the  morrow  he 
would  call  his  men  together  and  select  from  them 
those  who  were  to  accompany  him.  He  told  me 
I  had  acted  very  wisely  in  coming  first  to  him, 
as  it  was  known  to  him  that  some  of  his  young 
men  did  not  like  me,  and  he  knew  that  they  had 
hasty  tempers.  He  expressed  himself  as  pleased 
that  they  had  not  met  me  outside  the  village,  and 
I  assured  him  that  I  was  equally  pleased  that 
this  was  so. 

The  chief  then  called  his  squaw,  who  got  me 
something  to  eat,  and  I  passed  the  remainder  of 
the  night  in  his  lodge.  Having  informed  the  old 
man  that  this  was  no  ordinary  occasion,  and  that 
he  would  be  expected  to  do  the  job  up  right,  I 
returned  to  the  Post. 

When  the  day  set  for  the  Grand  Duke 's  arrival 
came  there  was  a  brave  array  at  the  station  to 
meet  him.  Captain  Hays  and  myself  had  five  or 
six  ambulances  to  carry  his  party.  Captain  Egan 
was  on  hand  with  a  company  of  cavalry  and 
twenty  extra  saddle-horses,  and  the  whole  popu- 
lation of  the  place  was  gathered  to  see  the  great 
man  from  Russia. 


230      BUFFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STOEY 

The  train  came  in,  and  from  it  stepped  General 
Sheridan.  A  fine  figure  of  a  man  was  towering 
above  him.    This  was  the  visitor. 

I  was  presented  to  the  Grand  Duke  as  Buffalo 
Bill,  the  man  who  would  have  charge  of  the  hunt. 
I  immediately  ordered  up  the  saddle-horse  I  had 
selected  for  the  nobleman,  also  a  fine  horse  for 
General  Sheridan.  Both  men  decided  to  ride 
for  a  few  miles  before  they  took  seats  in  the 
ambulances. 

When  the  whole  party  was  mounted  they 
started  south,  Texas  Jack  acting  as  guide  until 
such  time  as  I  could  overtake  them.  The  Grand 
Duke  was  very  much  interested  in  the  whole  pro- 
ceeding, particularly  in  the  Indians.  It  was  no- 
ticed that  he  cast  frequent  and  admiring  glances 
at  a  handsome  red-skinned  maiden  who  accom- 
panied old  Spotted  TaiPs  daughter.  When  we 
made  camp  my  titled  guest  plied  me  with  ques- 
tions about  buffaloes  and  how  to  kill  them.  He 
wanted  to  know  whether  a  gun  or  a  pistol  was 
the  proper  weapon  and  whether  I  would  be  sure 
to  supply  him  with  a  horse  that  was  trained  in 
buffalo  hunting. 

I  told  him  that  I  would  give  him  Buckskin  Joe, 
the  best  buffalo  horse  in  the  country,  and  that 
all  he  would  need  to  do  would  be  to  mount  the 
animal  and  fire  away  every  time  he  saw  a  buffalo. 

At  nine  o  'clock  in  the  morning  we  were  all  gal- 
loping over  the  prairies  in  search  of  big  game. 
I  waited  till  everyone  was  ready,  and  then  led 
the  party  over  a  little  knoll  that  hid  the  herd 


BUFFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STOEY      231 

from  view.  Li  a  few  minutes  we  were  among 
the  buffaloes. 

Alexis  first  chose  to  use  his  pistol.  He  sent 
six  shots  in  rapid  succession  after  one  bull,  at 
a  distance  of  only  twenty  feet,  but  he  fired  wildly, 
and  did  no  damage  whatever.  I  rode  up  to  his 
side,  and,  his  pistol  having  been  emptied,  gave 
him  mine.  He  seized  it  and  fired  six  more  shots, 
but  not  a  buffalo  fell. 

I  saw  that  he  was  pretty  sure  to  come  home 
empty-handed  if  he  continued  this  sort  of  pistol 
practice.  So  I  gave  him  my  old  **Lucretia"  and 
told  him  to  urge  his  horse  close  to  the  buffaloes, 
and  not  to  shoot  till  I  gave  him  the  word.  At 
the  same  time  I  gave  Buckskin  Joe  a  cut  with 
my  whip  which  sent  him  at  a  furious  gallop  to 
within  ten  feet  of  one  of  the  biggest  bulls  in 
the  herd. 

**Now  is  your  time,"  I  shouted  to  Alexis.  He 
fired,  and  down  went  the  buffalo.  Then,  to  my 
amazement,  he  dropped  his  gun,  waved  his  hat 
in  the  air,  and  began  talking  to  members  of  his 
suite  in  his  native  tongue,  which  I  of  course  was 
totally  unable  to  understand.  Old  Buckskin  Joe 
was  standing  behind  the  horse  that  I  was  riding, 
apparently  quite  as  much  astonished  as  I  was 
at  this  singular  conduct  of  a  man  he  had  accepted 
in  good  faith  as  a  buffalo  hunter. 

There  was  no  more  hunting  for  the  Grand  Duke 
just  then.  The  pride  of  his  achievement  had  para- 
lyzed any  further  activity  as  a  Nimrod  in  him. 
Presently  General  Sheridan  came  riding  up,  and 


232      BUFFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STORY 

the  ambulances  were  gathered  round.  Soon  corks 
were  popping  and  champagne  was  flowing  in  honor 
of  the  Grand  Duke  Alexis  and  his  first  buffalo. 

Many  of  the  newspapers  which  printed  accounts 
of  the  hunt  said  that  I  had  shot  the  buffalo  for 
the  Grand  Duke.  Others  asserted  that  I  held  the 
buffalo  while  the  Grand  Duke  shot  him.  But  the 
facts  are  just  as  I  have  related  them. 

It  was  evident  to  all  of  us  that  there  could  be 
little  more  sport  for  that  day.  At  the  request 
of  General  Sheridan  I  guided  the  Russians  back 
to  camp.  Several  of  the  others  in  the  party  de- 
cided to  indulge  in  a  little  hunt  on  their  own 
account,  and  presently  we  saw  them  galloping 
madly  over  the  prairie  in  all  directions,  with  ter- 
rified buffaloes  flying  before  them. 

As  we  were  crossing  a  stream  on  our  way  back 
to  camp  we  ran  into  a  small  band  that  had  been 
frightened  by  some  of  these  hunters.  They  came 
sweeping  across  our  path,  not  more  than  thirty 
feet  away,  and  as  they  passed  Alexis  raised  his 
pistol  and  fired  generally  into  the  herd.  A  buffalo 
cow  fell. 

It  was  either  an  extraordinary  shot  or  a 
'* scratch,"  probably  the  latter.  The  Duke  was 
as  much  astonished  as  any  of  us  at  the  result, 
but  we  gave  him  three  rousing  cheers,  and  when 
the  ambulance  came  up  we  had  a  second  round 
of  champagne  in  honor  of  the  prowess  of  our 
distinguished  fellow  hunter.  I  began  to  hope  that 
he  would  keep  right  on  killing  buffaloes  all  the 
afternoon,  for  it  was  apparent  that  every  time 


BUFFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STORY      233 

he  dropped  an  animal  a  basket  of  champagne  was 
to  be  opened.  And  in  those  days  on  the  Plains 
champagne  was  not  a  drink  that  could  be  indulged 
in  very  often. 

I  took  care  of  the  hides  and  heads  of  the  buffa- 
loes the  Grand  Duke  had  shot,  as  he  wanted  them 
all  preserved  as  souvenirs  of  his  hunt,  which  he 
was  now  enjoying  immensely.  I  also  cut  the 
choice  meat  from  the  cow  that  he  had  killed  and 
brought  it  into  camp.  At  supper  he  had  the 
pleasure  of  dining  on  buffalo  meat  which  he  him- 
self had  provided. 

Eight  buffaloes  were  killed  by  Alexis  during 
the  three  days  we  remained  in  camp.  He  spent 
most  of  his  time  in  the  saddle,  and  soon  became 
really  accomplished.  After  he  had  satisfied  him- 
self as  to  his  own  ability  as  a  buffalo  killer  he 
expressed  a  desire  to  see  how  the  Indians  hunted 
them.  He  had  never  seen  bows  and  arrows  used 
in  the  pursuit  of  game.  Spotted  Tail,  who  had 
joined  the  hunt  according  to  his  promise,  picked 
out  some  of  his  best  hunters,  and  when  Alexis 
joined  them  directed  them  to  surround  a  herd. 
They  were  armed  with  bows  and  arrows  and 
lances. 

I  told  the  Grand  Duke  to  follow  one  particularly 
skillful  brave  whose  name  was  Two  Lance,  who 
had  a  reputation  for  being  able  to  drive  an  arrow 
clear  through  the  body  of  a  bull.  The  Indian 
proved  equal  to  his  fame.  He  hauled  alongside 
of  an  animal,  and,  bending  his  powerful  bow,  let 
fly  an  arrow,  which  passed  directly  through  the 


234      BUFFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STORY 

bulky  carcass  of  a  galloping  brute,  who  fell  dead 
instantly.  The  arrow,  at  the  Grand  Duke's  re- 
quest, was  given  to  him  as  a  souvenir  which  he 
doubtless  often  exhibited  as  proof  of  his  story 
when  some  of  his  European  friends  proved  a  little 
bit  skeptical  of  his  yarns  of  the  Western  Plains. 

When  the  visitor  had  had  enough  of  buffalo 
hunting,  orders  were  given  to  return  to  the  rail- 
road. The  conveyance  provided  for  Alexis  and 
General  Sheridan  was  an  old-fashioned  Irish  dog- 
cart, drawn  by  four  spirited  cavalry  horses.  The 
driver  was  old  Bill  Reed,  an  overland-stage  driver, 
and  our  wagon-master.  The  Grand  Duke  vastly 
admired  the  manner  in  which  he  handled  the  reins. 

On  the  way  over.  General  Sheridan  told  his 
guest  that  I  too  was  a  stage-driver,  and  Alexis 
expressed  a  desire  to  see  me  drive. 

**Cody,"  called  the  general,  **come  back  here 
and  exchange  places  with  Reed.  The  Grand  Duke 
wants  you  to  drive  for  a  while." 

In  a  few  minutes  I  had  the  reins,  and  we  were 
racing  across  the  prairie.  We  jogged  along  stead- 
ily enough,  despite  a  pretty  rapid  pace,  and  this 
did  not  suit  General  Sheridan  at  all. 

*  *  Shake  'em  up  a  little,  Bill, ' '  he  told  me  as  we 
were  approaching  Medicine  Creek.  **Show  us 
some  old-time  stage-driving." 

I  gave  the  horses  a  sounding  crack  with  the 
whip,  and  they  jumped  into  their  work  with  a 
real  interest.  The  load  was  light  and  their  pace 
increased  with  every  second. 

Soon  they  were  fairly  flying  over  the  ground, 


BUFFOLA  BILL'S  OWN  STORY      235 

and  I  had  all  I  could  do  to  maintain  any  control 
over  them.  At  last  we  reached  a  steep  hill,  or 
divide,  the  further  side  of  which  sloped  down 
to  the  creek.  There  was  no  brake  on  the  wagon, 
and  the  four  horses  were  not  in  the  least  inclined 
to  hold  back,  appearing  to  be  wholly  unconcerned 
as  to  what  might  happen. 

It  was  impossible  to  restrain  them.  My  work 
was  cut  out  for  me  in  keeping  them  on  the  track. 
So  I  let  them  set  their  own  pace  down  the  hill. 
The  wagon  bounded  and  rebounded  from  the 
bumps  in  the  road,  and  my  two  distinguished 
passengers  had  to  keep  very  busy  holding  their 
seats. 

However,  when  they  saw  that  the  horses  were 
being  kept  in  the  road  they  assumed  an  appear- 
ance of  enjoying  themselves.  I  was  unable  to 
slacken  the  pace  of  the  horses  until  they  dashed 
into  the  camp  where  we  were  to  obtain  a  relay. 
There  I  succeeded  in  checking  them. 

The  Grand  Duke  and  the  general  said  they  had 
got  a  lot  of  enjoyment  out  of  the  ride,  but  I  no- 
ticed that  thereafter  they  were  perfectly  willing 
to  travel  at  an  easier  pace. 

When  we  arrived  at  North  Platte,  the  Grand 
Duke  invited  me  into  his  car,  and  there,  over  a 
few  bottles  of  champagne,  we  went  over  all  the 
details  of  the  hunt.  He  said  the  trip  was  one 
which  he  would  never  forget  and  professed  him- 
self as  wholly  unable  to  thank  me  for  my  part 
in  it. 

As  I  was  leaving  the  car  one  of  his  suite  ap- 


236      BUFFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STORY 

preached  me,  and,  extending  a  big  roll  of  green- 
backs, begged  me  to  accept  it  as  a  slight  token 
of  the  Grand  Duke's  appreciation  of  my  serv- 
ices. 

I  told  him  I  could  take  nothing  for  what  I  had 
done.  He  then  handed  me  a  small  jewel  box, 
which  I  slipped  into  my  pocket  without  examining, 
and  asked  if  I  would  not  also  accept  the  magnifi- 
cent fur  overcoat  which  Alexis  had  worn  on  the 
hunt. 

I  had  frequently  admired  this  coat,  which  was 
made  of  many  fine  Russian  furs.  I  was  glad  to 
receive  it  as  a  remembrance  from  one  of  the 
most  agreeable  men  I  had  ever  guided  on  a  hunt- 
ing expedition. 

After  leaving  us  Alexis  telegraphed  to  the  most 
famous  of  New  York  jewelers  and  had  made  for 
me  a  wonderful  set  of  sleeve-links  and  a  scarf- 
pin,  studded  with  diamonds  and  rubies,  each  piece 
in  the  form  of  a  buffalo  head,  as  large  as  a  silver 
half-dollar. 

Reporters  who  accompanied  the  expedition  tel- 
egraphed the  story  of  this  order  to  their  New 
York  newspapers.  When  later  I  arrived  in  New 
York,  after  this  present  had  been  given  me,  some 
of  the  papers  said  that  Buffalo  Bill  had  come 
to  New  York  to  buy  a  shirt  on  which  to  wear 
the  jewelry  given  him  by  the  Grand  Duke 
Alexis. 

Shortly  after  this.  General  Ord,  who  had  ac- 
companied the  hunting  party,  rode  over  with  me 
to  Fort  McPherson.     On  the  way  he  asked  me 


BUFFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STORY      237 

how  I  would  like  to  have  a  commission  in  the 
regular  army.  General  Sheridan,  he  said,  had 
suggested  that  I  ought  to  have  a  commission, 
and  the  matter  could  be  arranged  if  I  de- 
sired it. 

I  thanked  the  general,  and  asked  him  to  thank 
General  Sheridan.  But  though  a  commission  was 
a  tempting  prize,  I  preferred  to  remain  in  the 
position  I  was  holding.  He  said  that  if  at  any- 
time I  felt  that  I  wanted  a  commission,  I  only 
needed  to  ask  for  it,  and  it  would  be  given  to 
me. 

All  I  looked  forward  to  was  the  life  of  the 
Plains.  It  was  enough  for  me  to  be  in  the  saddle, 
trusting  each  day  to  find  some  new  adventure. 
Army  life  would  mean  a  great  deal  of  rou- 
tine, and  routine  was  something  I  could  not 
endure. 

So,  giving  up  forever  any  hope  of  wearing  an 
officer's  shoulder-straps,  I  was  about  to  turn  back 
to  the  prairies  to  see  what  new  opportunities  for 
excitement  offered,  when  a  strange  new  call  camef 
to  me. 

General  J.  J.  Reynolds,  who  had  just  arrived 
at  Fort  McPherson  with  the  Third  Cavalry,  called 
me  into  the  office  one  day  and  told  me  that  he 
had  a  letter,  railroad  tickets,  and  five  hundred  dol- 
lars for  me.  Furthermore  he  informed  me  that 
a  thirty  days'  leave  of  absence  was  awaiting  me 
whenever  I  wanted  to  take  it. 

All  this  was  the  doing  of  the  '* Millionaires' 
Hunting  Party,"  headed  by  James  Gordon  Ben- 


238      BUFFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STOEY 

nett  and  the  Jeromes,  which  I  had  guided  the  year 
before. 

I  was,  in  short,  invited  to  visit  my  former 
charges  in  New  York,  and  provided  by  them 
with  money  and  mileage,  and  leisure  for  the 
trip. 


CHAPTER  IX 

Of  course  going  to  New  York  was  a  very  serious 
business,  and  not  to  be  undertaken  lightly.  The 
first  thing  I  needed  was  clothes,  and  at  my  direc- 
tion the  Post  tailor  constructed  what  I  thought 
was  the  handsomest  suit  in  the  world.  Then  I 
proceeded  to  buy  a  necktie,  so  that  I  could  wear 
the  present  which  had  come  in  the  little  box  from 
the  Grand  Duke — a  handsome  scarf-pin.  The 
Grand  Ducal  overcoat  and  a  new  Stetson,  added 
to  the  wardrobe  I  already  possessed,  completed 
my  outfit.  Almost  everything  I  had  was  on  my 
back,  but  just  the  same  I  borrowed  a  little  trunk 
of  my  sister,  so  as  to  impress  New  York  with 
the  fact  that  I  had  as  many  clothes  as  any  visitor 
from  the  "West. 

At  the  last  minute  I  decided  to  take  along  my 
buckskin  suit.  Something  told  me  that  some  of 
the  people  I  had  met  in  New  York  might  want 
to  know  just  how  a  scout  looked  in  his  business 
clothes.  Mrs.  Cody  was  much  astonished  because 
I  did  not  ask  for  my  brace  of  pistols,  which  had 
accompanied  me  everywhere  I  had  gone  up  to 
that  time. 

She  had  great  confidence  in  these  weapons, 
which  more  than  once  had  saved  my  life.  She 
wanted  to  know  what  in  the  world  I  would  do 
without  them  if  I  met  any  bad  men  in  New  York. 

239 


240      BUFFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STORY 

I  told  her  that  I  supposed  there  were  policemen 
in  New  York  whose  business  it  was  to  take  care 
of  such  people.   Anyway,  I  was  going  to  chance  it. 

On  my  arrival  at  Omaha  I  was  met  by  a  num- 
ber of  friends  who  had  heard  of  my  expected 
descent  on  New  York.  They  drove  me  at  once 
to  the  United  States  Court,  where  my  old  friend, 
Judge  Dundee,  was  on  the  bench.  The  minute 
I  entered  the  courtroom  the  judge  rapped  loudly 
with  his  gavel  and  said: 

**This  court  is  adjourned  while  Cody  is  in 
town."  He  joined  the  party,  and  we  moved  on 
to  the  Paxton  Hotel,  where  a  banquet  was  ar- 
ranged in  my  honor. 

I  left  for  Chicago  the  next  day.  On  arriving 
there,  I  was  met  at  the  depot  by  Colonel  M.  V, 
Sheridan,  brother  of  General  Philip  Sheridan,  my 
old  friend  and  fellow  townsman.  *'Mike"  Sheri- 
dan, with  his  brother,  the  general,  was  living  in 
a  beautiful  house  on  Michigan  Avenue.  There  I 
met  a  number  of  the  old  officers  with  whom  I  had 
served  on  the  Plains. 

I  was  still  wearing  the  wonderful  overcoat  that 
had  been  given  me  by  the  Grand  Duke  Alexis,  and 
it  was  a  source  of  continuous  admiration  among 
the  officers,  who  pronounced  it  the  most  magnifi- 
cent garment  of  its  kind  in  America. 

The  splendor  of  the  general's  Michigan  Avenue 
mansion  was  new  to  me ;  never  before  had  I  seen 
such  vast  rooms  and  such  wonderful  furnishings. 
It  was  necessary  to  show  me  how  the  gas  was 
turned  on  and  off,  and  how  the  water  flowed  in 


BUFFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STORY      241 

the  bathroom.  I  moved  around  the  place  in  a 
daze  until  **Mike/'  taking  pity  on  me,  escorted 
me  to  a  barroom,  where  I  was  more  at  home.  As 
we  were  partaking  of  a  cocktail,  a  number  of 
reporters  from  the  Chicago  papers  came  in. 
They  had  been  told  of  my  visit  and  plied  me 
with  questions.  In  the  papers  the  next  morning 
I  found  that  I  had  had  adventures  that  up  to  that 
time  I  had  never  heard  of.  The  next  evening  I 
had  my  first  adventure  in  high  society,  and  it 
proved  more  terrifying  to  me  than  any  Indian 
fight  I  had  ever  taken  part  in.  Finding  I  had  no 
proper  raiment  for  a  big  ball,  which  was  to  be 
given  in  my  honor,  **Mike"  Sheridan  took  me 
to  the  clothing  department  of  Marshall  Field's, 
j^here  I  was  fitted  with  an  evening  suit. 

The  general's  valet  assisted  me  into  these  gar- 
ments that  evening.  My  long  brown  hair  still 
flowed  down  over  my  shoulders  and  I  was  de- 
termined to  go  to  the  barber's  and  have  it  sheared 
before  I  made  a  public  appearance,  but  General 
Sheridan  would  not  hear  of  this.  He  insisted  that 
I  crown  my  long  locks  with  a  plug  hat,  but  here 
I  was  adamant.  I  would  go  to  the  party  in  my 
Stetson  or  I  would  not  go  to  the  party  at  all. 

The  ball  was  held  at  the  Eiverside  Hotel,  which 
was  then  one  of  the  fashionable  hostelries  of  Chi- 
cago. When  I  was  escorted  in,  I  was  told  to 
give  the  colored  boy  my  hat  and  coat — to  this  I 
violently  objected.  I  prized  the  coat  beyond  all 
my  earthly  possessions  and  intended  to  take  no 
chances  with  it.    I  was  finally  persuaded  that  the 


242      BUFFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STOEY 

boy  was  a  responsible  employee  of  the  hotel  and 
reluctantly  gave  him  the  garment.  Then  I  suf- 
fered myself  to  be  led  into  the  ballroom.  Here  I 
met  a  bevy  of  the  most  beautiful  women  I  had 
ever  seen.  Fearing  every  minute  that  I  would 
burst  my  new  and  tight  evening  clothes,  I  bowed 
to  them  all  around — ^but  very  stiffly.  To  the  gen- 
eral's request  that  I  join  in  the  next  dance  I 
entered  a  firm  refusal.  I  knew  no  dances  but 
square  dances,  so  they  got  up  an  old-fashioned 
quadrille  for  me  and  I  managed  somehow  to  go 
through  it.  As  soon  as  it  was  over,  I  hurriedly 
escorted  my  fair  partner  to  her  seat,  then  I 
quickly  made  my  way  to  the  barroom.  The  man 
behind  the  bar  appreciated  my  plight.  He  stowed 
me  away  in  a  corner  behind  the  icebox  and  in 
that  corner  I  remained  for  the  rest  of  the  evening. 

Several  times  the  general  and  his  friends  came 
down  to  ** moisten  up,"  and  each  time  I  heard 
them  wondering  aloud  what  had  become  of  me. 
"When  the  music  stopped  and  the  party  broke  up 
I  emerged  from  my  hiding-place.  The  next  morn- 
ing I  reported  to  the  general  and  explained  to 
him  that  I  was  going  back  to  the  sagebrush.  If 
New  York  were  like  Chicago,  I  wanted  to  be  ex- 
cused.   But  he  insisted  that  I  continue  my  trip. 

At  eleven  o'clock  the  next  morning  he  thrust 
me  into  a  Pullman  car,  which  was  in  charge  of 
Mr.  Angel,  an  official  of  the  Pullman  Car  Com- 
pany, and  was  taking  a  private  party  to  the  East. 

Two  of  my  millionaire  hunting  companions, 
J.  B.  Heckscher  and  Colonel  Schuyler  Crosby, 


BUFFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STORY      243 

met  me  at  the  station  and  drove  me  to  the  Union 
Club.  That  night  I  was  told  to  put  on  my  evening 
clothes  and  accompany  them  to  a  theater.  Heck- 
scher  was  very  much  disturbed  when  he  saw  the 
Chicago  clawhammer  that  had  been  purchased 
for  me. 

**It  will  do  for  tonight,"  he  said,  **but  tomor- 
row I'll  send  you  to  my  tailor  and  have  him  make 
you  some  clothes  fit  for  a  gentleman  to  wear." 

We  saw  Edwin  Booth  in  a  Shakespearean  play. 
I  was  told  that  all  my  wealthy  hunting  friends 
would  join  me  at  breakfast  the  next  morning. 
I  was  up  at  seven  o'clock  and  waiting  for  them. 
The  hours  dragged  slowly  by  and  no  guests  ar- 
rived. I  was  nearly  famished,  but  did  not  dare 
eat  until  the  company  should  be  assembled. 
About  eleven  o'clock,  when  I  was  practically 
starved,  Mr.  Heckscher  turned  up.  I  asked  him 
what  time  they  usually  had  breakfast  in  New 
York  and  he  said  about  half -past  twelve  or  any 
time  therafter  up  to  three. 

At  one,  the  gentlemen  all  made  their  appear- 
ance and  were  somewhat  astonished  at  the  amount 
of  breakfast  I  stowed  away,  until  they  were  told 
that  I  had  been  fasting  since  seven  o'clock  that 
morning. 

During  my  visit  to  New  York,  I  was  taken 
by  Mr.  James  Gordon  Bennett  to  Niblo  's  Garden, 
where  I  saw  **The  Black  Crook."  We  witnessed 
the  performance  from  a  private  box  and  my  breath 
was  fairly  taken  away  when  the  curtain  went  up 
on  the  fifth  act.    Needless  to  say,  that  was  the 


244      BUFFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STORY 

first  time  I  had  ever  witnessed  a  mnsical  show, 
and  I  thought  it  the  most  wonderful  spectacle 
I  had  ever  gazed  upon. 

The  remainder  of  my  visit  in  New  York  was 
spent  in  a  series  of  dinners  and  theater  parties. 
I  was  entertained  in  the  house  of  each  gentleman 
who  had  been  with  me  on  the  hunt.  I  had  the 
time  of  my  life. 

After  I  had  had  about  all  the  high  life  I  could 
stand  for  the  time  being  I  set  out  for  Westches- 
ter, Pa.,  to  find  the  only  relative  I  knew  in  the 
East.  My  mother  was  born  in  Germantown.  Her 
sister  had  married  one  Henry  R.  Guss,  of  West- 
chester. 

I  found  on  reaching  Westchester  that  my  rela- 
tive was  one  of  its  most  important  citizens,  having 
the  Civil  War  title  of  general.  I  found  his  home 
with  no  trouble,  and  he  was  very  delighted  to  see 
me.  An  old  lady,  who  was  a  member  of  his  house- 
hold, he  introduced  to  me  as  my  grandmother. 
His  first  wife,  my  Aunt  Eliza,  was  dead,  and  he 
had  married  a  second  time.  He  also  introduced  me 
to  his  son.  Captain  George  Guss,  who  had  been 
in  the  army  with  him  during  the  Civil  War. 

It  was  not  until  we  had  talked  of  old  family 
connections  for  an  hour  or  more  that  they  dis- 
covered that  I  was  Buffalo  Bill ;  then  they  simply 
flooded  me  with  questions. 

To  make  sure  that  I  would  return  for  a  second 
visit,  the  young  people  of  the  family  accompanied 
me  back  to  New  York.  I  was  due  for  a  dinner 
that  evening,  so  I  gave  them  a  card  to  Mr.  Palmer, 


BUFFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STORY      245 

of  Niblo's  Garden,  and  they  all  went  to  see  ''The 
Black  Crook/' 

When  I  reached  the  club  I  was  given  a  tele- 
gram from  General  Sheridan  telling  me  to  hasten 
to  Chicago.  He  wanted  me  to  hurry  on  to  Fort 
McPherson  and  guide  the  Third  Cavalry,  under 
General  Reynolds,  on  a  military  expedition.  The 
Indians  had  been  committing  serious  devastations 
and  it  was  necessary  to  suppress  them  summarily. 
At  the  dinner,  which  was  given  by  Mr.  Bennett, 
I  told  my  New  York  friends  that  I  would  have 
to  leave  for  the  West  the  next  day.  When  the 
party  broke  up  I  went  directly  to  the  Albemarle 
Hotel  and  told  my  cousins  that  we  would  have 
to  start  early  the  next  morning  for  Westchester, 
There  I  would  remain  twenty-four  hours. 

When  we  reached  Westchester,  my  uncle  in- 
formed me  that  they  had  arranged  a  fox  hunt 
for  the  next  morning,  and  that  all  the  people  in 
the  town  and  vicinity  would  be  present.  They 
wanted  to  see  a  real  scout  and  plainsman  in  the 
saddle. 

Early  next  morning  many  ladies  and  gentle- 
men, splendidly  mounted,  appeared  in  front  of  my 
uncle 's  residence.  At  that  time  Westchester  pos- 
sessed the  best  pack  of  fox  hounds  in  America. 
Captain  Trainer,  master  of  the  hounds,  provided 
me  with  a  spirited  horse  which  had  on  a  little 
sheepskin  saddle  of  a  kind  on  which  I  had  never 
ridden.  I  was  familiar  neither  with  the  horse, 
the  saddle,  the  hounds,  nor  fox-hunting,  and  was 
extremely  nervous.    I  would  have  backed  out  if 


246      BUFFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STOKY 

I  could,  but  I  couldn't,  so  I  mounted  the  horse 
and  we  all  started  on  the  chase. 

We  galloped  easily  along  for  perhaps  a  mile, 
and  I  was  beginning  to  think  fox-hunting  a  very- 
tame  sport  indeed  when  suddenly  the  hounds 
started  off  on  a  trail,  all  barking  at  once.  The 
master  of  the  hounds  and  several  of  the  other 
riders  struck  off  across  country  on  the  trail,  tak- 
ing fences  and  stone  walls  at  full  gallop. 

I  noticed  that  my  uncle  and  several  elderly 
gentlemen  stuck  to  the  road  and  kept  at  a  more 
moderate  gait.  The  eyes  of  the  spectators  were 
all  on  me.  I  don't  know  what  they  expected  me 
to  do,  but  at  any  rate  they  were  disappointed.  To 
their  manifest  disgust  I  stayed  with  the  people 
on  the  road. 

Shortly  we  came  to  a  tavern  and  I  went  in  and 
nerved  myself  with  a  stiff  drink,  also  I  had  a 
bottle  filled  with  liquid  courage,  which  I  took 
along  with  me.  Just  by  way  of  making  a  second 
fiasco  impossible  I  took  three  more  drinks  while 
I  was  in  the  bar,  then  I  galloped  away  and  soon 
overtook  the  hunters. 

The  first  trail  of  the  hounds  had  proved  false. 
Two  miles  further  on  they  struck  a  true  trail 
and  away  they  went  at  full  cry.  I  had  now  got 
used  to  the  saddle  and  the  gait  of  my  horse.  I 
also  had  prepared  myself  in  the  tavern  for  any 
course  of  action  that  might  offer. 

The  M.  F.  H.  began  taking  stone  walls  and 
hedges  and  I  took  every  one  that  he  did.  Across 
the  country  we  went  and  nothing  stopped  or 


BUFFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STORY      247 

daunted  me  until  the  quarry  was  brought  to  earth. 
I  was  in  at  the  death  and  was  given  the  honor 
of  keeping  the  brush. 

At  two  0  'clock  that  afternoon  I  took  my  depar- 
ture for  the  West.  Mr.  Frank  Thompson,  of  the 
Pennsylvania  Eailroad,  who  had  ridden  my  fa- 
mous buffalo  horse,  Buckskin  Joe,  on  the  great 
hunt,  sent  me  to  Chicago  in  his  own  private  car. 

At  the  station  in  Chicago  I  was  met  with  orders 
from  General  Sheridan  to  continue  straight  ahead 
to  Fort  McPherson  as  quickly  as  possible.  The 
expedition  was  waiting  for  me. 

At  Omaha  a  party  of  my  friends  took  me  off 
the  train  and  entertained  me  until  the  departure 
of  the  next  train.  They  had  heard  of  my  evening 
clothes  and  insisted  on  my  arraying  myself 
therein  for  their  benefit.  My  trunk  was  taken  to 
the  Paxton  Hotel  and  I  put  on  the  clawhammer 
and  all  that  went  with  it.  About  fifty  of  my 
Omaha  friends  accompanied  me  to  the  train;  in 
my  silk  hat  and  evening  dress  I  was  an  imposing 
spectacle.  But  I  expected  to  change  into  my 
Plains  clothes  as  soon  as  I  got  into  the  car.  How- 
ever, these  plans  were  sadly  upset.  Both  my 
friends  and  I  had  forgotten  my  trunk,  which  in 
the  hour  of  my  greatest  need  was  still  reposing 
in  a  room  in  the  Paxton  Hotel,  while  in  clothes 
fit  only  for  a  banquet  I  was  speeding  over  the 
Plains  to  a  possible  Lidian  fight. 

At  Fort  McPherson,  my  old  friend,  **  Buffalo 
Chips,"  was  waiting  for  me.  He  had  been  left 
behind  by  General  Eeynolds  to  tell  me  to  overtake 


248      BUFFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STORY 

the  command  as  soon  as  possible.    He  had  brought 
out  old  Buckskin  Joe  for  me  to  ride. 

The  expedition  was  already  well  on  its  way 
north  into  the  Loup  country  and  had  camped  at 
Pawnee  Springs,  about  eight  miles  from  McPher- 
son  Station,  the  night  before. 

Poor  old  Buffalo  Chips  almost  fell  dead  when 
he  saw  how  I  was  dressed.  The  hat  especially 
filled  him  with  amazement  and  rage,  but  there  was 
nothing  else  to  do.  I  had  to  go  as  I  was  or  go 
not  at  all. 

The  champagne  with  which  my  Omaha  friends 
had  filled  my  stateroom  I  gave  to  the  boys  at  the 
station.  I  did  not  have  to  urge  them  to  accept 
it.  They  laughed  a  good  deal  at  my  stovepipe 
hat  and  evening  dress,  but  because  of  the  cham- 
pagne they  let  me  off  without  as  much  guying  as 
I  would  otherwise  have  received. 

Jumping  on  our  horses,  we  struck  out  on  the 
trail  of  the  soldiers.  It  was  about  one  o'clock 
when  we  overtook  them.  As  we  neared  the  rear 
guard,  I  pulled  off  my  overcoat  and  strapped  it 
behind  my  saddle.  I  also  put  my  hair  up  under 
my  stovepipe  hat  and  galloped  past  the  command, 
to  all  appearances  fresh  from  a  New  York  ball- 
room. 

**Look  at  the  dude!  Look  at  the  dudeP'  they 
shouted  as  I  rode  among  them.  Paying  no  atten- 
tion to  them,  I  galloped  up  and  overtook  General 
Eeynolds.     Saluting  him,  I  said: 

** General,  I  have  come  to  report  for  duty." 
**Who  in  thunder  are  you?"  he  demanded,  look- 


BUFFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STOEY      249 

ing  at  me  without  a  sign  of  recognition  in  his  eye. 

**Why,  general/'  I  said,  **I  am  to  be  your 
guide  on  this  expedition." 

He  looked  at  me  a  second  time,  and  a  grin 
spread  over  his  face. 

**Can  it  be  possible  that  you  are  Cody?"  he 
asked.    I  told  him  that  I  was  Cody. 

*^Let  down  your  hair,"  he  commanded.  I  took 
off  iny  hat,  and  my  hair  fell  over  my  shoulders. 
A  loud  yell  went  up  from  both  officers  and  en- 
listed men,  as  the  word  went  up  and  down  the 
line  that  the  dude  they  had  been  bedeviling  was 
none  other  than  Buffalo  Bill. 

Texas  Jack  and  the  scouts  who  were  ahead  had 
heard  the  noise  and  came  galloping  back. 

** "Welcome  back,  old  chief!"  shouted  Jack,  and 
the  scouts  gathered  around  me,  shaking  my  hand 
and  congratulating  me  on  my  safe  return  from 
the  dangers  and  the  perils  of  the  East. 

The  general  asked  me  how  far  it  was  to  the 
Loup  Fork.  I  said  it  was  about  eight  miles  and 
offered  to  proceed  there  ahead  of  the  command 
and  select  a  good  sheltered  camp.  This  I  did. 
The  adjutant  accompanying  the  detachment  helped 
me  and  laid  out  the  camping  spot,  and  when  the 
command  pulled  in  they  disposed  themselves  for 
the  night  in  a  beautiful  grove  of  timber  where 
there  was  plenty  of  firewood  and  good  grass  for 
the  horses  and  mules.  Soon  the  tents  were  up 
and  big  fires  were  crackling  all  around. 

I  accepted  with  thanks  General  Eeynolds's  in- 
vitation to  mess  with  him  on  the  trip.     After 


250      BUFFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STOKY 

dinner,  before  a  big  log  fire,  which  was  being 
built  in  front  of  the  general's  tent,  the  officers 
came  up  to  meet  me.  Among  those  to  whom  I 
was  introduced  were  Colonel  Anthony  Mills,  Ma- 
jor Curtiss,  Major  Alexander  Moore,  Captain 
Jerry  Eussell,  Lieutenant  Charles  Thompson, 
Quartermaster  Lieutenant  Johnson,  Adjutant 
Captain  Minehold,  and  Lieutenant  Lawson.  After 
this  reception,  I  went  down  to  visit  the  scouts 
in  camp.  There  the  boys  dug  me  up  all  kinds 
of  clothes,  and  clothes  of  the  Western  kind  I 
very  sadly  needed. 

White  had  brought  along  an  old  buckskin  suit. 
When  I  had  got  this  on  and  an  old  Stetson  on 
my  head,  and  had  my  favorite  pair  of  guns 
strapped  to  me  and  my  dear  old  ''Lucretia  Bor- 
gia" was  within  reach,  I  felt  that  Buffalo  Bill  was 
himself  again. 

The  general  informed  me  that  evening  that  In- 
dians had  been  reported  on  the  Dismal  Eiver. 
At  breakfast  the  next  morning  he  said  that  a 
large  war  party  had  been  committing  devasta- 
tions up  and  down  the  flat.  His  scouts  had  dis- 
covered their  trail  going  north  and  had  informed 
him  that  they  would  probably  make  camp  on  the 
Dismal.  There  they  were  sure  to  be  joined  by 
other  Indians.  He  asked  my  opinion  as  to  what 
had  best  be  done. 

I  told  him  it  was  about  twenty-five  miles  from 
the  present  tent  to  the  Dismal  Eiver.  I  said  I 
had  better  go  on,  taking  White  with  me,  and  try 
to  locate  them. 


BUFFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STORY      251 

**I've  heard  of  this  man  White,''  said  the  gen- 
eral. **They  tell  me  that  he  is  your  shadow  and 
he  follows  you  every  place  you  go."  I  said  that 
this  was  true  and  that  I  had  all  I  could  do  to 
keep  him  from  following  me  to  New  York.  ^*It 
would  break  his  heart, ' '  I  said,  *  *  if  I  were  to  leave 
him  behind  now."  I  added  that  Texas  Jack  knew 
the  country  thoroughly  and  that  he  could  guide 
the  command  to  a  point  on  the  Dismal  River  where 
I  could  meet  them  that  night.    The  general  said : 

**I  have  been  fighting  the  Apaches  in  Arizona, 
but  I  find  these  Sioux  are  an  entirely  different 
crowd.  I  know  little  about  them  and  I  will  fol- 
low your  suggestions.  You  start  now  and  I  will 
have  the  command  following  you  in  an  hour  and 
a  half." 

I  told  White  to  get  our  horses  at  once  and  also 
to  tell  Texas  Jack  to  report  to  me.  When  the 
latter  reported  I  told  him  the  general  wanted  him 
to  guide  the  command  to  the  course  of  the  Dismal. 
When  he  got  there,  if  he  didn't  hear  from  me 
in  the  meantime,  he  was  to  select  a  good  camp. 

White  and  I  set  out,  riding  carefully  and  look- 
ing for  the  trail.  We  had  traveled  about  ten 
miles  when  I  found  it.  The  Indians  were  headed 
toward  the  Dismal.  Presently  another  trail  joined 
the  first  one,  and  then  we  had  to  begin  extremely 
careful  scouting. 

I  didn't  follow  the  Indian  trail,  but  bordered 
the  left  and  struck  the  river  about  five  miles 
above  the  Fork.  There  we  turned  down-stream. 
Soon  on  the  opposite  side  we  saw  a  party  of  In- 


252      BUFFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STOET 

dians  surrounding  a  herd  of  elk.  I  didn't  ap- 
proach them  closely,  neither  did  I  follow  down 
the  stream  any  further.  We  kept  parallel  with 
the  course  of  the  river,  and  soon  stopped  at  the 
foot  of  a  high  sandhill.  From  here  I  knew  I 
could  get  a  view  of  the  whole  country. 

I  told  White  to  remain  there  until  I  came  back, 
and,  jumping  off  old  Joe,  I  cautiously  climbed  the 

hm. 

From  behind  a  big  soapweed — a  plant  some- 
times called  Spanish  Dagger — I  got  a  view  of 
the  Dismal  River,  for  several  miles.  I  immedi- 
ately discovered  smoke  arising  from  a  bunch  of 
timber  about  three  miles  below  me.  Grazing 
around  the  timber  were  several  hundred  head  of 
horses.  Here  I  knew  the  Indian  camp  to  be 
located. 

I  slipped  down  the  hill,  and,  running  to  old 
Joe,  mounted,  telling  White  at  the  same  time  that 
I  had  located  the  camp.  Then  we  began  circling 
the  sandhill  until  we  got  two  or  three  miles  away, 
keeping  out  of  sight  of  the  Indians  all  the  time. 
When  we  felt  we  were  safe  we  made  a  straight 
sweep  to  meet  the  command.  I  found  the  scouts 
first  and  told  Texas  Jack  to  hold  up  the  soldiers, 
keeping  them  out  of  sight  until  he  heard  from  me. 

I  went  on  until  I  met  General  Reynolds  at  the 
head  of  the  column.  He  halted  the  troop  on  my 
approach ;  taking  him  to  one  side,  I  told  him  what 
I  had  discovered.    He  said: 

*  'As  you  know  the  country  and  the  location  of  the 
Indian  camp,  tell  me  how  you  would  proceed." 


BUFFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STOEY      253 

I  suggested  that  he  leave  one  company  as  an 
escort  for  the  wagon-train  and  let  them  follow 
slowly.  I  would  leave  one  guide  to  show  them 
the  way.  Then  I  would  take  the  rest  of  the  cav- 
alry and  push  on  as  rapidly  as  possible  to  within 
a  few  miles  of  the  camp.  That  done,  I  would  di- 
vide the  command,  sending  one  portion  across 
the  river  to  the  right,  five  miles  below  the  Indians, 
and  another  one  to  bear  left  toward  the  village. 
Still  another  detachment  was  to  be  kept  in  readi- 
ness to  move  straight  for  the  camp.  This,  how- 
ever, was  not  to  be  done  until  the  flanking  col- 
umn had  time  to  get  around  and  across  the  river. 

It  was  then  two  o'clock.  By  four  o'clock  the 
flanking  columns  would  be  in  their  proper  posi- 
tions to  move  on  and  the  charge  could  begin.  I 
said  I  would  go  with  the  right-hand  column  and 
send  Texas  Jack  with  the  left-hand  column.  I 
would  leave  White  with  the  main  detachment.  I 
impressed  on  the  general  the  necessity  of  keep- 
ing in  the  ravine  of  the  sandhills  so  as  to  be  out 
of  sight  of  the  Indians. 

I  said  that,  notwithstanding  all  the  caution 
that  we  could  take,  we  were  likely  to  run  into  a 
party  of  hunters,  who  would  immediately  inform 
the  camp  of  our  presence.  In  case  of  discovery, 
I  said,  it  would  be  necessary  to  make  our  charge 
at  once. 

General  Reynolds  called  his  oflScers  together 
and  gave  them  my  suggestions  as  their  instruc- 
tions. In  a  very  few  minutes  everything  was 
moving.    I  accompanied  Colonel  Mills.    His  col- 


254      BUFFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STORY 

unm  had  crossed  the  Dismal  and  was  about  two 
miles  to  the  north  of  it  when  I  saw  a  party  of 
Indians  chasing  elk. 

I  knew  that  sooner  or  later — ^probably  sooner 
— ^these  Indians  would  see  me.  I  told  Colonel 
Mills  he  had  better  send  the  scout  back  to  Gen- 
eral Reynolds  and  make  all  haste  to  charge  the 
village.  We  had  no  way  of  sending  word  to 
Major  Curtiss,  who  led  the  other  flanking  column, 
and  we  had  to  trust  to  luck  that  he  would  hear 
the  firing  when  it  started. 

Colonel  Mills  kept  his  troops  on  the  lowest 
ground  I  could  pick  out,  but  we  made  our  way 
steadily  toward  the  village. 

Inside  of  half  an  hour  we  heard  firing  up  the 
river  from  where  we  were.  Colonel  Mills  at 
once  ordered  his  troops  to  charge.  Luckily  it  col- 
lided with  the  Indians '  herd  of  horses,  which  were 
surrounded,  thus  depriving  most  of  the  braves  of 
their  mounts. 

Men  were  left  to  guard  the  animals,  and,  tak- 
ing the  rest  of  the  company,  we  charged  the  vil- 
lage, reaching  it  a  little  after  the  arrival  of  Gen- 
eral Reynolds.  The  -attack  was  not  as  much  a 
surprise  as  we  had  hoped  for.  Some  of  the  In- 
dian hunters  had  spied  the  soldiers  and  notified 
the  camp,  but  General  Reynolds,  coming  from  the 
south,  had  driven  all  the  Indians  on  foot  and  all 
the  squaws  and  children  toward  the  sandhills  on 
the  north.  Mills  came  pretty  near  finding  more 
Indians  than  he  was  looking  for.  Their  force 
largely  outnumbered  ours  when  we  collided,  but 


BUFFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STORY      255 

Major  Curtiss  came  charging  down  from  the  north 
just  at  this  instant.  His  arrival  was  such  a  com- 
plete surprise  that  the  Indians  gave  up  and  be- 
gan waving  the  white  flag.    Then  all  firing  ceased. 

On  rounding  them  up  we  found  that  we  had 
captured  about  two  hundred  and  fifty  warriors, 
women,  and  children,  most  of  whom  were  from 
the  Spotted  Tail  Agency. 

The  general  had  the  Indians  instantly  disarmed. 
Most  of  their  tepees  were  up  and  they  were  or- 
dered to  go  into  them  and  remain  there.  We 
placed  a  sufficient  guard  around  the  whole  camp 
so  that  none  could  escape.  On  the  arrival  of  the 
wagon-train,  for  which  a  scout  had  been  sent,  the 
command  went  into  camp. 

Taking  me  aside.  General  Reynolds  said: 

**I  want  you  to  send  one  of  your  fastest  men 
back  to  Fort  McPherson.  I  am  sending  dispatches 
to  General  Ord,  asking  for  instructions." 

I  selected  White  to  make  this  trip,  and  he  was 
ready  for  duty  in  five  minutes. 

We  were  then  sixty-five  miles  from  Fort  Mc- 
Pherson Station.  I  told  White  that  the  matter 
was  urgent  and  that  he  must  get  to  that  telegraph 
office  as  soon  as  possible.  At  ten  o'clock  the  next 
morning  he  rode  into  our  camp  with  a  telegram 
to  General  Reynolds.  The  general  was  ordered 
to  disarm  all  the  Indians  and  send  them  under 
guard  of  a  company  of  cavalry  to  the  Spotted  Tail 
Agency. 

General  Reynolds  was  very  much  delighted  with 
the  success  of  the  expedition.    On  his  arrival  at 


256      BUTFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STOKY 

the  Fort  he  received  congratulations  from  General 
Ord  and  from  General  Sheridan.  General  Sheri- 
dan asked  in  his  telegram  if  Cody  had  gone  along. 
The  general  wired  back  that  Cody  had  gone  along 
and  also  wrote  a  letter  telling  General  Sheridan 
how  he  had  reported  in  evening  dress. 

Of  course  the  papers  were  soon  full  of  this  raid. 
Al  Sorenson  of  the  Omaha  Bee,  who  had  seen 
my  evening  clothes  and  silk  hat  in  Omaha,  wrote 
an  extremely  graphic  story  of  my  arrival  on  the 
Plains.  I  soon  found  that  the  officers  and  men 
in  the  Third  Cavalry  knew  all  about  the  inci- 
dent. 

During  the  spring  of  72,  the  Indians  were 
rather  quiet.  We  did  a  little  scouting,  however, 
just  to  keep  watch  on  them.  One  day,  in  the 
fall  of  that  year,  I  returned  from  a  scouting  ex- 
pedition, and  as  I  passed  the  store  there  were  a 
lot  of  men  crowded  in  front  of  it.  All  of  them 
saluted  me  with  **How  do  you  do,  Honorable!" 
I  rode  straight  to  the  general's  private  office.  He 
also  stood  at  attention  and  said: 

'*Good  morning,  Honorable." 

**What  does  all  this  'Honorable'  mean.  Gen- 
eral?" r  demanded.  He  said:  **0f  course,  you 
have  been  off  on  a  scout  and  you  have  not  heard, 
but  while  you  were  gone  you  were  nominated  and 
elected  to  represent  the  twenty-sixth  district  of 
Nebraska  in  the  Legislature."    I  said: 

**That  is  highly  complimentary,  and  I  appre- 
ciate it,  but  I  am  no  politician  and  I  shall  haVe 
to  tender  my  resignation,"  and  tender  it  I  did. 


BUFFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STORY      257 

My  refusal  to  serve  as  a  lawmaker  was  unquali- 
fied. I  knew  nothing  about  politics.  I  believe 
that  I  made  a  fairly  good  justice  of  the  peace, 
but  that  was  because  of  no  familiarity  with  the 
written  law.  I  merely  applied  the  principles  of 
fair-dealing  to  my  cases  and  did  as  I  would  have 
been  done  by.  The  Golden  Eule  was  the  only 
statute  I  applied. 

I  inquired  how  to  free  myself  formally  from 
the  new  honors  that  had  been  thrust  upon  me, 
and  soon  another  man  was  serving  in  my  stead 
— and  quite  welcome  he  was  to  the  pay  and  credit 
that  might  have  been  mine. 

I  returned  back  to  the  Plains  for  employment, 
but  there  was  nothing  to  do.  The  Indians,  for 
a  wonder,  were  quiet.  There  was  little  stirring 
in  the  military  posts.  I  could  have  continued  to 
serve  in  one  of  them  if  I  had  chosen,  and  the 
way  was  still  open  to  study  for  a  commission  as 
an  officer.  But  army  life  without  excitement  was 
not  interesting  for  me,  and  when  Ned  Buntline 
offered  me  a  chance  to  come  East  and  try  my  for- 
tunes as  an  actor  I  accepted. 

I  accepted  with  misgivings,  naturally.  Hunt- 
ing Indians  across  a  stage  differed  from  follow- 
ing them  across  the  Plains.  I  knew  the  wild  west- 
ern Indian  and  his  ways.  I  was  totally  unac- 
quainted with  the  tame  stage  Indian,  and  the 
thought  of  a  great  gaping  audience  looking  at  me 
across  the  footlights  made  me  shudder. 

But  when  my  old  *'pards,"  Wild  Bill  and  Texas 
Jack,  consented  to  try  their  luck  with  me  in  the 


258      BUFFALO  BILLYS  OWN  STOEY 

new  enterprise  I  felt  better.  Together  we  made 
the  trip  to  New  York,  and  played  for  a  time  in 
the  hodgepodge  drama  written  for  us  by  Ned 
Buntline  himself. 

Before  any  of  us  would  consent  to  be  roped 
and  tied  by  Thespis  we  insisted  on  a  proviso  that 
we  be  freed  whenever  duty  called  us  to  the  Plains. 

The  first  season  was  fairly  prosperous,  and  so 
was  the  second.  The  third  year  I  organized  a 
**show''  of  my  own,  with  real  Indians  in  it — ^the 
first,  I  believe,  who  ever  performed  on  a  stage. 
I  made  money  and  began  to  get  accustomed  to  the 
new  life,  but  in  1876  the  call  for  which  I  had  been 
listening  came. 

The  Sioux  War  was  just  breaking  out.  I  closed 
the  show  earlier  than  usual  and  returned  to  the 
West.  Colonel  Mills  had  written  me  several  times 
to  say  that  General  Crook  wanted  me  to  accom- 
pany his  command.  When  I  left  Chicago  I  had 
expected  to  catch  up  with  Crook  at  the  Powder 
Eiver,  but  I  learned  en  route  that  my  old  com- 
mand, the  gallant  Fifth  Cavalry,  was  on  its  way 
from  Arizona  to  join  him,  and  that  General  Carr, 
my  former  commander,  was  at  its  head. 

Carr  wanted  me  as  his  guide  and  chief  of  scouts, 
and  had  written  to  army  headquarters  in  Chicago 
to  learn  where  I  could  be  reached. 

As  soon  as  this  news  came  to  me  I  gave  up  the 
idea  of  overtaking  Crook.  I  hastened  to  Chey- 
enne, where  the  Fifth  Cavalry  had  already  arrived, 
and  was  met  at  the  depot  there  by  Lieutenant 
Charles  King,  adjutant  of  the  regiment,  who  had 


BUFFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STORY      259 

been  sent  by  General  Carr  from  Fort  D.  A.  Rus- 
sell. In  later  years,  as  General  Charles  King,  this 
ojficer  became  a  widely  popular  author,  and  wrote 
some  of  the  best  novels  and  stories  of  Indian  life 
that  I  have  ever  read. 

As  I  accompanied  the  lieutenant  back  to  the 
fort,  we  passed  soldiers  who  recognized  me  and 
shouted  greetings.  When  we  entered  the  Post 
a  great  shout  of  ** Here's  Buffalo  Bill!"  arose 
from  the  men  on  the  parade  ground.  It  was  like 
old  times,  and  I  felt  a  thrill  of  happiness  to  be 
back  among  my  friends,  and  bound  for  one  of  the 
regular  old-time  campaigns.  The  following 
morning  the  command  pulled  out  for  Fort  Lara- 
mie. We  found  General  Sheridan  there  ahead 
of  us,  and  mighty  glad  was  I  to  see  that  brave 
and  able  commander  once  more.  Sheridan  was 
accompanied  by  General  Frye  and  General  For- 
sythe,  and  all  were  en  route  for  the  Red  Cloud 
Agency,  near  the  center  of  the  Sioux  trouble, 
which  was  then  reaching  really  alarming  propor- 
tions. The  command  was  to  remain  at  Laramie 
for  a  few  days;  so,  at  General  Sheridan's  re- 
quest, I  accompanied  him  on  his  journey.  We 
were  able  to  accomplish  little  in  the  way  of  peace 
overtures. 

The  Indians  had  lately  committed  many  serious 
depredations  along  the  Black  Hills  trail.  Gold 
had  been  discovered  there  in  many  new  places, 
and  the  miners,  many  of  them  tenderfoots,  and 
unused  to  the  ways  of  the  red  man,  had  come 
into  frequent  conflict  with  their  new  neighbors. 


260      BUFFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STORY 

Massacres,  some  of  them  very  flagrant,  had  re- 
sulted and  most  of  the  treaties  our  Government 
had  made  with  the  Indians  had  been  ruthlessly 
broken. 

On  my  return  from  the  agency,  the  Fifth  Cav- 
alry was  sent  out  to  scout  the  country  between 
there  and  the  Black  Hills.  We  operated  along  the 
south  fork  of  the  Cheyenne  and  about  the  foot 
of  the  Black  Hills  for  two  weeks,  and  had  several 
small  engagements  with  roving  bands  of  Indians 
during  that  time. 

All  these  bands  were  ugly  and  belligerent,  and 
it  was  plain  from  the  spirit  they  showed  that 
there  had  been  a  general  understanding  among 
all  the  redskins  thereabout  that  the  time  had  come 
to  drive  the  white  man  from  the  country. 

Brevet-General  Wesley  Merritt,  who  had  lately 
received  his  promotion  to  the  colonelcy  of  the 
Fifth  Cavalry,  now  took  command  of  the  regiment. 
I  regretted  that  the  command  had  been  taken 
from  General  Carr.  I  was  fond  of  him  personally, 
and  it  was  under  him  that  the  regiment  made  its 
fine  reputation  as  a  fighting  organization.  I  soon 
became  well  acquainted  with  General  Merritt, 
however,  and  found  him  to  be  a  brave  man  and 
an  excellent  officer. 

The  regiment  did  continuous  and  hard  scout- 
ing. We  soon  believed  we  had  driven  all  the 
hostile  Indians  out  of  that  part  of  the  country. 
In  fact,  we  were  starting  back  to  Fort  Laramie, 
regarding  the  business  at  hand  as  finished,  when 
a  scout  arrived  at  our  camp  and  reported  the 


BUFFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STORY      261 

massacre  of  General  Custer  and  his  whole  force 
on  the  Little  Big  Horn. 

This  massacre  occurred  June  25,  1876,  and  its 
details  are  known,  or  ought  to  be  known,  by  every 
schoolboy.  Custer  was  a  brave,  dashing,  head- 
long soldier,  whose  only  fault  was  reckless- 
ness. 

He  had  been  warned  many  times  never  to  ex- 
pose a  small  command  to  a  superior  force  of  In- 
dians, and  never  to  underestimate  the  ability  and 
generalship  of  the  Sioux.  He  had  unbounded 
confidence,  however,  in  himself  and  his  men,  and 
I  believe  that  not  until  he  was  struck  down  did 
he  ever  doubt  that  he  would  be  able  to  cut  his 
way  out  of  the  wall  of  warriors  about  him  and 
turn  defeat  into  a  glorious  and  conspicuous  vic- 
tory. 

The  news  of  the  massacre,  which  was  the  most 
terrible  that  ever  overtook  a  command  of  our 
soldiers,  was  a  profound  shock  to  all  of  us.  We 
knew  at  once  that  we  would  all  have  work  to  do, 
and  settled  grimly  into  the  preparations  for  it. 

Colonel  Stanton,  who  was  with  the  Fifth  Cav- 
alry on  this  scout,  had  been  sent  to  the  Red  Cloud 
Agency  two  days  before.  That  night  a  message 
came  from  him  that  eight  hundred  warriors  had 
left  the  agency  to  join  Sitting  Bull  on  the  Little 
Big  Horn.  Notwithstanding  instructions  to  pro- 
ceed immediately  by  way  of  Fort  Fetterman  to 
join  Crook,  General  Merritt  took  the  responsi- 
bility of  endeavoring  to  intercept  the  Cheyennes 
and  thereby  performed  a  very  important  service. 


262      BUFFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STORY 

For  this  job  tlie  general  selected  five  hundred 
men  and  horses.  In  two  hours  we  were  making 
a  forced  march  back  to  War  Bonnet  Creek.  Our 
intention  was  to  reach  the  Indian  trail  running 
to  the  north  across  this  watercourse  before  the 
Cheyennes  could  get  there.  We  arrived  the  next 
night. 

At  daylight  the  next  morning,  July  17,  I  pro- 
ceeded ahead  on  a  scout.  I  found  that  the  In- 
dians had  not  yet  crossed  the  creek.  On  my  way 
back  to  the  command  I  discovered  a  large  party 
of  Indians.  I  got  close  enough  to  observe  them, 
and  they  proved  to  be  Cheyennes,  coming  from 
the  south.  With  this  information  I  hurried  back 
to  report. 

The  cavalr3mien  were  ordered  to  mount  their 
horses  quietly  and  remain  out  of  sight,  while 
General  Merritt,  accompanied  by  two  or  three 
aides  and  myself,  went  on  a  little  tour  of  observa- 
tion to  a  neighboring  hill.  From  the  summit  of 
this  we  saw  the  Indians  approaching  almost  di- 
rectly toward  us.  As  we  stood  watching,  fifteen 
or  twenty  of  them  wheeled  and  dashed  off  to  the 
west,  from  which  direction  we  had  come  the  night 
before. 

Searching  the  country  to  see  what  it  was  which 
had  caused  this  unexpected  maneuver,  we  observed 
two  mounted  soldiers  approaching  us  on  the  trail. 
Obviously  they  were  bearing  dispatches  from  the 
command  of  General  Merritt. 

It  was  clear  that  the  Indians  who  had  left  their 
main  body  were  intent  on  intercepting  and  mur- 


BUFFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STOEY      263 

dering  these  two  men.  General  Merritt  greatly 
feared  that  they  would  accomplish  this  purpose. 
How  to  aid  them  was  a  problem.  If  soldiers 
were  sent  to  their  assistance,  the  Indians  would 
observe  the  rescuers,  and  come  to  the  right  con- 
clusion that  a  body  of  troops  was  lying  in  wait 
for  them.  This  of  course  would  turn  them  back, 
and  the  object  of  our  expedition  would  be  de- 
feated. 

The  commander  asked  me  if  I  had  any  sugges- 
tions. 

** General,''  I  replied,  **why  not  wait  until  the 
scouts  get  a  little  nearer?  When  they  are  about 
to  charge  on  the  two  men,  I  will  take  fifteen  sol- 
diers, dash  down  and  cut  them  off  from  their 
main  body.  That  will  prevent  them  from  going 
back  to  report,  and  the  others  will  fall  into  our 
trap." 

The  general  at  once  saw  the  possibilities  of  the 
scheme.  *^If  you  can  do  that,  Cody,  go  ahead," 
he  said. 

I  at  once  rushed  back  to  the  command  and 
jumped  on  my  horse. 

With  fifteen  of  the  best  men  I  could  pick  in  a 
hurry  I  returned  to  the  point  of  observation.  I 
placed  myself  and  my  men  at  the  order  of  Gen- 
eral Merritt,  and  asked  him  to  give  me  the  word 
at  the  proper  time. 

He  was  diligently  studying  the  country  before 
him  with  his  field-glasses.  When  he  thought  the 
Indians  were  as  close  to  the  unsuspecting  scouts 
as  was  safe,  he  sang  out: 


264      BUFFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STORY 

**Go  on  now,  Cody,  and  be  quick  about  it.  T]iey 
are  going  to  charge  on  the  couriers." 

The  two  soldiers  were  not  more  than  a  hun- 
dred yards  from  us.  The  Indians,  now  making 
ready  to  swoop  down,  wer<B  a  hundred  yards  fur- 
ther on. 

We  tore  over  the  bluffs  and  advanced  at  a 
gallop.  They  saw  us  and  gave  battle.  A  run- 
ning fight  lasted  for  several  minutes,  during  which 
we  drove  them  back  a  fairly  safe  distance  and 
killed  three  of  their  number. 

The  main  body  of  the  Cheyennes  had  now  come 
into  plain  sight,  and  the  men  who  escaped  from 
us  rode  back  toward  it.  The  main  force  halted 
when  its  leaders  beheld  the  skirmish,  and  seemed 
for  a  time  at  a  loss  as  to  what  was  best  to 
do. 

We  turned  toward  General  Merritt,  and  when 
we  had  made  about  half  the  distance  the  Indians 
we  had  been  chasing  suddenly  turned  toward  us 
and  another  lively  skirmish  took  place. 

One  of  the  Indians,  who  was  elaborately  deco- 
rated with  all  the  ornaments  usually  worn  by  a 
great  chief  when  he  engaged  in  a  fight,  saw  me 
and  sang  out: 

**I  know  you,  Pa-ho-has-ka !  Come  and  fight 
with  me ! " 

The  name  he  used  was  one  by  which  I  had 
long  been  known  by  the  Indians.  It  meant  Long- 
Yellow-Hair. 

The  chief  was  riding  his  horse  to  and  fro  in 
front  of  his  men,  in  order  to  banter  me.    I  con- 


BUFFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STOEY      265 

eluded  to  accept  his  challenge.  I  turned  and  gal-^ 
loped  toward  him  for  fifty  yards,  and  he  rode 
toward  me  about  the  same  distance.  Both  of  us 
rode  at  full  speed.  When  we  were  only  thirty 
yards  apart  I  raised  my  rifle  and  fired.  His  horse 
dropped  dead  under  him,  and  he  rolled  over  on 
the  ground  to  clear  himself  of  the  carcass. 

Almost  at  the  same  instant  my  own  horse 
stepped  into  a  hole  and  fell  heavily.  The  fall 
hurt  me  but  little,  and  almost  instantly  I  wa® 
on  my  feet.  This  was  no  time  to  lie  down  and 
nurse  slight  injuries.  The  chief  and  I  were  now 
both  on  our  feet,  not  twenty  paces  apart.  We 
fired  at  each  other  at  the  same  instanU.  My 
usual  luck  held.  His  bullet  whizzed  harmlessly 
past  my  head,  while  mine  struck  him  full  in  the 
breast. 

He  reeled  and  fell,  but  I  took  no  chances.  He 
had  barely  touched  the  ground,  when  I  was  upon 
him,  knife  in  hand,  and  to  make  sure  of  him  drove 
the  steel  into  his  heart. 

This  whole  affair,  from  beginning  to  end,  occu- 
pied but  little  time.  The  Indians,  seeing  that  I 
was  a  little  distance  from  my  pony,  now  came 
charging  down  upon  me  from  the  hill,  in  the  hope 
of  cutting  me  off. 

General  Merritt  had  witnessed  the  duel,  andy 
realizing  the  danger  I  was  in,  ordered  Colonel 
Mason  with  Company  K  to  hurry  to  my  rescue. 
This  order  came  none  too  soon.  Had  it  been  given 
one  minute  later  two  hundred  Indians  would  have 
been  upon  me,  and  this  present  narration  would 


266      BXIPFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STORY 

have  had  to  be  made  by  some  one  else.  As  the 
soldiers  came  up  I  swung  the  war-bonnet  high 
in  the  air  and  shouted:  *^The  first  scalp  for 
Custer!'' 

It  was  by  this  time  clear  to  General  Merritt 
that  he  could  not  ambush  the  Indians.  So  he 
ordered  a  general  charge.  For  a  time  they  made 
a  stubborn  resistance,  but  no  eight  hundred  In- 
dians, or  twice  that  number,  for  that  matter,  could 
make  a  successful  stand  against  such  veteran 
and  fearless  fighters  as  the  Fifth  Cavalry.  They 
soon  came  to  that  conclusion  themselves  and 
began  a  running  retreat  for  the  Red  Cloud 
Agency. 

For  thirty-five  miles,  over  the  roughest  kind 
of  ground,  we  drove  them  before  us.  Soon  they 
were  forced  to  abandon  their  spare  horses  and  all 
the  equipment  they  had  brought  along.  Despite 
the  imminent  risk  of  encountering  thousands  of 
other  Indians  at  the  Agency,  we  drove  our  late 
adversaries  directly  into  it.  No  one  in  our  com- 
mand had  any  assurance  that  the  Indians  gath- 
ered there  had  not  gone  on  the  warpath,  but  little 
difference  that  made  to  us.  The  Fifth  Cavalry, 
on  the  warpath  itself,  would  stop  at  nothing.  It 
was  dark  when  we  entered  the  reservation.  All 
about  us  we  could  see  the  huddling  forms  of  In- 
dians— thousands  of  them — enough,  in  fact,  to 
have  consummated  another  Custer  massacre. 
But  they  showed  no  disposition  to  fight. 

While  at  the  Agency  I  learned  that  the  Indian 
I  had  killed  in  the  morning  was  none  other  than. 


BUFFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STOKY      267 

Yellow  Hand,  a  son  of  old  Cut  Nose,  who  was  a 
leading  chief  of  the  Cheyennes.  The  old  man 
learned  from  the  members  of  Yellow  Hand's  party 
that  I  had  killed  his  son,  and  sent  a  white  inter- 
preter to  me  offering  four  mules  in  exchange  for 
the  young  chief's  war-bonnet.  This  request  I 
was  obliged  to  refuse,  as  I  wanted  it  as  a  trophy 
of  the  first  expedition  to  avenge  the  death  of 
Custer  and  his  men. 

The  next  morning  we  started  to  join  the  com- 
mand of  General  Crook,  which  was  encamped  at 
the  foot  of  Cloud  Peak  in  the  Big  Horn  Moun- 
tains. They  had  decided  to  await  the  arrival  of 
the  Fifth  Cavalry  before  proceeding  against  the 
Sioux,  who  were  somewhere  near  the  head  of  the 
Big  Horn  Kiver,  in  a  country  that  was  as  nearly 
inaccessible  as  any  of  the  Western  fastnesses. 
By  making  rapid  marches  we  reached  Crook's 
camp  on  Goose  Creek  about  the  third  of  August. 

At  this  camp  I  met  many  of  my  old  friends, 
among  them  being  Colonel  Koyal,  who  had  just 
received  his  promotion  to  a  lieutenant-colonelcy. 
Royal  introduced  me  to  General  Crook,  whom  I 
had  never  met  before,  but  with  whose  reputation 
as  an  Indian  fighter  I  was  of  course  familiar,  as 
was  everybody  in  the  West.  The  general's  chief 
guide  was  Frank  Grouard,  a  half-breed,  who  had 
lived  six  years  with  Sitting  Bull  himself,  and 
who  was  thoroughly  familiar  with  the  Sioux  and 
their  country. 

After  one  day  in  camp  the  whole  command 
pulled  out  for  Tongue  River,  leaving  the  wagons 


268      BUFFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STOEY 

behind.  Our  supplies  were  carried  by  a  big  pack- 
train.  Down  the  Tongue  we  marched  for  two 
days  of  hard  going,  thence  westerly  to  the  Rose- 
bud River.  Here  we  struck  the  main  Indian  trail 
leading  down-stream.  From  the  size  of  this  trail, 
which  was  not  more  than  four  days'  old,  we  es- 
timated that  at  least  seven  thousand  Indians,  one 
of  the  biggest  Indian  armies  ever  gathered  to- 
gether, must  have  gone  that  way.  It  was  here 
that  we  were  overtaken  by  Captain  Jack  Craw- 
ford, widely  known  East  and  West  as  *  *  The  Poet 
Scout."  Crawford  had  just  heard  of  the  Custer 
massacre,  and  had  written  a  very  creditable  poem 
upon  receipt  of  the  news.  His  pen  was  always 
ready,  and  he  made  many  epics  of  the  West,  many 
of  which  are  still  popular  throughout  the  country. 
Jack  was  a  tenderfoot  at  that  time,  having 
lately  come  to  that  country.  But  he  had  abun- 
dant pluck  and  courage.  He  had  just  brought 
dispatches  to  Crook  from  Fort  Fetterman,  riding 
more  than  three  hundred  miles  through  a  country 
literally  alive  with  hostile  Indians.  These  dis- 
patches notified  Crook  that  General  Terry  was 
to  operate  with  a  large  command  south  of  the 
Yellowstone,  and  that  the  two  commands  would 
probably  consolidate  somewhere  on  the  Rosebud. 
On  learning  that  I  was  with  Crook,  Crawford  at 
once  hunted  me  up,  and  gave  me  a  letter  from 
General  Sheridan,  announcing  his  appointment 
as  a  scout.  He  also  informed  me  that  he  had 
brought  me  a  present  from  General  Jones,  of 
Cheyenne. 


BUFFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STOEY      269 

**Wliat  kind  of  a  presents  I  inquired,  seeing 
no  indication  of  any  package  about  Jack. 

**A  bottle  of  whisky!''  lie  almost  shouted. 

I  clapped  my  hand  over  his  mouth.  News  that 
whisky  was  in  the  camp  was  likely  to  cause  a 
raid  by  a  large  number  of  very  dry  scouts  and 
soldier  men.  Only  when  Jack  and  I  had  assured 
ourselves  that  we  were  absolutely  alone  did  I 
dare  dip  into  his  saddle  pockets  and  pull  forth 
the  treasure.  I  will  say  in  passing  that  I  don't 
believe  there  is  another  scout  in  the  West  that 
would  have  brought  a  full  bottle  of  whisky  three 
hundred  miles.  But  Jack  was  **bone  dry."  As 
Crawford  refused  to  join  me,  and  I  was  never 
a  lone  drinker,  I  invited  General  Carr  over  to 
sample  the  bottle.  We  were  just  about  to  have 
a  little  drink  for  two  when  into  camp  rode  young 
Lathrop,  the  reporter  for  the  Associated  Press 
to  whom  we  had  given  the  name  of  Death  Battler. 
Death  Eattler  appeared  to  have  scented  the 
whisky  from  afar,  for  he  had  no  visible  errand 
with  us.  We  were  glad  to  have  him,  however, 
as  he  was  a  good  fellow,  and  certainly  knew  how 
to  appreciate  a  drink. 

For  two  or  three  days  the  command  pushed  on, 
but  we  did  not  seem  to  gain  much  on  the  Indians. 
They  apparently  knew  exactly  where  we  were 
and  how  fast  we  were  going,  and  they  moved  just 
as  fast  as  we  did. 

On  the  fourth  day  of  our  pursuit  I  rode  about 
ten  miles  ahead  of  the  command  till  I  came  to 
a  hill  which  gave  a  fine  view  of  the  surrounding 


270      BIIPFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STOEY 

country.  Mounting  this,  I  searched  the  hills  with 
my  field-glasses.  Soon  I  saw  a  great  column  of 
smoke  rising  about  ten  miles  down  the  creek.  As 
this  cloud  drifted  aside  in  the  keen  wind,  I  could 
see  a  column  of  men  marching  beneath  it.  These 
I  at  first  believed  to  be  the  Indians  we  were  after, 
but  closer  study  revealed  them  as  General  Terry's 
soldiers. 

I  forthwith  dispatched  a  scout  who  was  with 
me  to  take  this  news  to  Crook.  But  he  had  no 
more  than  gone  when  I  discovered  a  band  of 
Indians  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  creek  and 
another  party  of  them  directly  in  front  of  me. 
For  a  few  minutes  I  fancied  that  I  had  made 
a  mistake,  and  that  the  men  I  had  seen  under  the 
dust  were  really  Indians  after  all. 

But  very  shortly  I  saw  a  body  of  soldiers  form- 
ing a  skirmish  line.  Then  I  knew  that  Terry's 
men  were  there,  and  that  the  Indians  I  had  seen 
were  Terry's  scouts.  These  Indians  had  mis- 
taken me  for  an  Indian,  and,  believing  that  I  was 
the  leader  of  a  big  party,  shouted  excitedly : '  *  The 
Sioux  are  coming."  That  is  why  the  general 
threw  out  the  skirmish  line  I  had  observed. 

General  Terry,  on  coming  into  the  Post,  ordered 
the  Seventh  Cavalry  to  form  a  line  of  battle  across 
the  Rosebud;  he  also  brought  up  his  artillery  and 
had  the  guns  unlimbered  for  action,  doubtless 
dreading  another  Custer  massacre. 

These  maneuvers  I  witnessed  from  my  hill  with 
considerable  amusement,  thinking  the  command 
must  be  badly  frightened.    After  I  had  enjoyed 


BUFFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STOEY      271 

the  situation  to  my  heart's  content  I  galloped 
toward  the  skirmish  line,  waving  my  hat.  When 
I  was  within  a  hundred  yards  of  the  troops,  Colo- 
nel Wier  of  the  Seventh  Cavalry  rode  out  to 
meet  me.  He  recognized  me  at  once,  and  con- 
voyed me  inside  the  line,  shouting  to  the  soldiers : 

**Boys,  here's  Buffalo  Bill!"  Thereupon  three 
rousing  cheers  ran  all  the  way  down  the  line. 

Colonel  Wier  presented  me  to  General  Terry. 
The  latter  questioned  me  closely  and  was  glad  to 
learn  that  the  alarm  had  been  a  false  one.  I  found 
that  I  was  not  entitled  alone  to  the  credit  of  hav- 
ing frightened  the  whole  Seventh  Cavalry.  The 
Indian  scouts  had  also  seen  far  behind  me  the 
dust  raised  by  Crook's  troops,  and  were  fully  sat- 
isfied that  a  very  large  force  of  Sioux  was  in 
the  vicinity  and  moving  to  the  attack. 

At  General  Terry's  request!  accompanied  him 
as  he  rode  forward  to  meet  Crook.  That  night 
both  commands  went  into  camp  on  the  Kosebud. 
General  Terry  had  his  wagon-train  with  him,  so 
the  camp  had  everything  to  make  life  as  com- 
fortable as  it  can  be  on  an  Indian  trail. 

The  officers  had  large  wall-tents,  with  portable 
beds  to  stow  inside  them,  and  there  were  large 
hospital  tents  to  be  used  as  dining-rooms.  Terry 's 
camp  looked  very  comfortable  and  homelike.  It 
presented  a  sharp  contrast  to  the  camp  of  Crook, 
who  had  for  his  headquarters  only  one  small  fly- 
tent,  and  whose  cooking  utensils  consisted  of  a 
quart  cup  in  which  he  brewed  his  own  coffee,  and 
a  sharp  stick  on  which  he  broiled  his  bacon.   When 


272      BUFFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STORY 

I  compared  these  two  camps  I  concluded  that 
Crook  was  a  real  Indian  jBghter.  He  had  plainly- 
learned  that  to  follow  Indians  a  soldier  must  not 
be  hampered  by  any  great  weight  of  luggage  or 
equipment. 

That  evening  General  Terry  ordered  General 
Miles,  with  the  Fifth  Infantry,  to  return  by  a 
forced  march  to  the  Yellowstone,  and  to  proceed 
by  steamboat  down  that  stream  to  the  mouth  of 
the  Powder  River,  where  the  Indians  could  be 
intercepted  in  case  they  made  an  attempt  to  cross 
the  stream.  The  regiment  made  a  forced  march 
that  night  of  thirty-five  miles,  which  was  splendid 
traveling  for  an  infantry  regiment  through  a 
mountainous  country. 

Generals.  Crook  and  Terry  spent  the  evening 
and  the  next  day  in  council.  The  following  morn- 
ing both  commands  moved  out  on  the  Indian  trail. 
Although  Terry  was  the  senior  officer,  he  did  not 
assume  command  of  both  expeditions.  Crook  was 
left  in  command  of  his  own  troops,  though  the 
two  forces  operated  together.  We  crossed  the 
Tongue  River  and  moved  on  to  the  Powder,  pro- 
ceeding down  that  stream  to  a  point  twenty  miles 
from  its  junction  with  the  Yellowstone.  There 
the  Indian  trail  turned  to  the  southeast,  in  the 
direction  of  the  Black  Hills. 

The  two  commands  were  now  nearly  out  of 
supplies.  The  trail  was  abandoned,  and  the  troops 
kept  on  down  the  Powder  River  to  its  confluence 
with  the  Yellowstone.  There  we  remained  for 
several  days. 


BUFFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STORY      273 

General  Nelson  A.  Miles,  who  was  at  the  head 
of  the  Fifth  Infantry,  and  who  had  been  scouting 
in  the  vicinity,  reported  that  no  Indians  had  as 
yet  crossed  the  Yellowstone.  Several  steamboats 
soon  arrived  with  large  quantities  of  supplies, 
and  the  soldiers,  who  had  been  a  little  too  close 
to  famine  to  please  them,  were  once  more  pro- 
vided with  full  stomachs  on  which  they  could  fight 
comfortably,  should  the  need  for  fighting  arise. 

One  evening  while  we  were  in  camp  on  the 
Yellowstone  at  the  mouth  of  the  Powder  River 
I  was  informed  that  Louis  Richard,  a  half-breed 
scout,  and  myself,  had  been  selected  to  accompany 
General  Miles  on  a  reconnaisance.  We  were  to 
take  the  steamer  Far  West  down  the  Yellowstone 
as  far  as  Glendive  Creek.  We  were  to  ride  in  the 
pilot-house  and  keep  a  sharp  look-out  for  Indians 
on  both  banks  of  the  river.  The  idea  of  scouting 
from  a  steamboat  was  to  me  an  altogether  novel 
one,  and  I  was  immensely  pleased  at  the  prospect. 

At  daylight  the  next  morning  we  ^reported  on 
the  steamer  to  General  Miles,  who  had  with  him 
four  or  five  companies  of  his  regiment.  We  were 
somewhat  surprised  when  he  asked  us  why  we 
had  not  brought  our  horses.  We  were  at  a  loss 
to  see  how  we  could  employ  horses  in  the  pilot- 
house of  a  river  steamboat.  He  said  that  we  might 
need  them  before  we  got  back,  so  we  sent  for 
them  and  had  them  brought  on  board. 

In  a  few  minutes  we  were  looking  down  the 
river,  the  swift  current  enabling  the  little  steamer 
to  make  a  speed  of  twenty  miles  an  hour. 


274      BUFFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STORY 

The  commander  of  the  Far  West  was  Captain 
Grant  March,  a  fine  chap  of  whom  I  had  often 
heard.  For  many  years  he  was  one  of  the  most 
famous  swift-water  river  captains  in  the  country. 
It  was  on  his  steamer  that  the  wounded  from 
the  battle  of  the  Little  Big  Horn  had  been  trans- 
ported to  Fort  Abraham  Lincoln,  on  the  Missouri 
River.  On  that  trip  he  made  the  fastest  steam- 
boat time  on  record.  He  was  an  excellent  pilot, 
and  handled  his  boat  in  those  swift  and  dangerous 
waters  with  remarkable  dexterity. 

With  Richard  and  me  at  our  station  in  'the  pilot- 
house the  little  steamer  went  flying  down-stream 
past  islands,  around  bends,  and  over  sandbars 
at  a  rate  that  was  exhilarating,  but  sometimes  a 
little  disquieting  to  men  who  had  done  most  of 
their  navigating  on  the  deck  of  a  Western  pony* 
Presently,  far  away  inland,  I  thought  I  could 
see  horses  grazing,  and  reported  this  belief  to 
General  Miles.  The  general  pointed  out  a  large 
tree  on  the  bank,  and  asked  the  captain  if  he 
could  land  the  boat  there. 

**I  can  not  only  land  her  there;  I  can  make 
her  climb  the  tree  if  you  think  it  would  be  any 
use,''  returned  March. 

He  brought  the  boat  skillfully  alongside  the 
tree,  and  let  it  go  at  that,  as  the  general  could 
see  no  particular  advantage  in  sending  the  steam- 
boat up  the  tree. 

Richard  and  I  were  ordered  to  take  our  horses 
and  push  out  as  rapidly  as  possible  to  see  if  there 
were  any  Indians  in  the  vicinity.     Meanwhile, 


BUFFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STORY      275 

General  Miles  kept  his  soldiers  in  readiness  to 
march  instantly  if  we  reported  any  work  for  them 
to  do. 

As  we  rode  off,  Captain  March  sang  out: 

**Boys,  if  there  was  only  a  heavy  dew  on  the 
grass,  I  could  send  the  old  craft  right  along  after 
you.'' 

It  was  a  false  alarm,  however.  The  objects 
I  had  seen  proved  to  be  Indian  graves,  with  only 
good  Indians  in  them.  On  arriving  at  Glendive 
Creek  we  found  that  Colonel  Rice  and  his  com- 
pany of  the  Fifth  Infantry  which  had  been  sent 
on  ahead  by  General  Miles  had  built  a  good  little 
fort  with  their  trowel  bayonets.  Colonel  Rice  was 
the  inventor  of  this  weapon,  and  it  proved  very 
useful  in  Indian  warfare.  It  is  just  as  deadly 
in  a  charge  as  the  regular  bayonet,  and  can  also 
be  used  almost  as  effectively  as  a  shovel  for  dig- 
ging rifle-pits  and  throwing  up  intrenchments. 

The  Far  West  was  to  remain  at  Glendive  over- 
night. General  Miles  wanted  a  scout  to  go  at 
once  with  messages  for  General  Terry,  and  I  was 
selected  for  the  job.  That  night  I  rode  seventy- 
five  miles  through  the  Bad  Lands  of  the  Yellow- 
stone. I  reached  General  Terry's  camp  the  next 
morning,  after  having  nearly  broken  my  neck  a 
dozen  times  or  more. 

Anyone  who  has  seen  that  country  in  the  day- 
time knows  that  it  is  not  exactly  the  kind  of  a 
place  one  would  pick  out  for  pleasure  riding. 
Imagine  riding  at  night,  over  such  a  country,  filled 
with  almost  every  imaginable  obstacle  to  travel, 


276      BUFFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STORY 

and  without  any  real  roads,  and  you  can  under- 
stand the  sort  of  a  ride  I  had  that  night.  I  was 
mighty  glad  to  see  the  dawn  break,  and  to  be  able 
to  pick  my  way  a  little  more  securely,  although 
I  could  not  increase  the  pace  at  which  I  had  driven 
my  horse  through  the  long,  dark  night. 

There  was  no  present  prospect  of  carrying  this 
out,  however.  After  I  had  taken  lunch.  General 
Terry  asked  me  if  I  would  carry  some  dispatches 
to  General  Whistler,  and  I  replied  that  I  would 
be  glad  to  do  so.  Captain  Smith,  Terry's  aide- 
de-camp,  offered  me  his  horse,  and  I  was  glad 
to  accept  the  animal,  as  my  own  was  pretty  well 
spent.  He  proved  to  be  a  fine  mount.  I  rode 
him  forty  miles  that  night  in  four  hours,  reach- 
ing General  Whistler's  steamboat  at  four  in  the 
morning.  When  Whistler  had  read  the  dispatches 
I  handed  him  he  said: 

*'Cody,  I  want  to  send  information  to  General 
Terry  concerning  the  Indians  that  have  been  skir- 
mishing around  here  all  day.  I  have  been  trying 
to  induce  some  member  in  my  command  to  carry 
them,  but  no  one  wants  to  go." 

'*Get  your  dispatches  ready,  general,"  I  re- 
plied, '*and  I'll  take  them." 

He  went  into  his  quarters  and  came  out  pres- 
ently with  a  package,  which  he  handed  me.  I 
mounted  the  same  horse  which  had  brought  me, 
and  at  eight  o'clock  that  evening  reached  Terry's 
headquarters,  just  as  his  force  was  about  to  march. 

As  soon  as  Terry  had  read  the  dispatches  he 
halted  t^is  command,  which  was  already  under 


BUFFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STORY      277 

way.  Then  he  rode  on  ahead  to  overtake  General 
Crook,  with  whom  he  held  a  council.  At  General 
Terry's  urgent  request  I  accompanied  him  on  a 
scout  for  Dry  Fork,  on  the  Missouri.  We  marched 
three  days,  a  little  to  the  east  of  north.  When 
we  reached  the  buffalo  range  we  discovered  some 
fresh  Indian  signs.  The  redskins  had  been  kill- 
ing buffalo,  and  the  evidences  of  their  work  were 
very  plain.  Terry  now  called  on  me  to  carry 
dispatches  to  Colonel  Eice,  who  was  still  en- 
camped at  the  mouth  of  Glendive  Creek  on  the 
Yellowstone.  This  was  about  eighty  miles  dis-i 
tant. 

Night  had  set  in  with  a  storm.  A  drizzling 
rain  was  falling,  which  made  the  going  slippery, 
and  made  the  blackness  of  the  Western  Plains 
still  blacker.  I  was  entirely  unacquainted  with 
the  section  of  the  country  through  which  I  was  to 
ride.  I  therefore  traveled  all  night  and  remained 
in  seclusion  in  the  daytime.  I  had  too  many  plans 
for  the  future  to  risk  a  shot  from  a  hostile  red- 
skin who  might  be  hunting  white  men  along  my 
way. 

At  daylight  I  unsaddled  my  mount  and  made  a 
hearty  breakfast  of  bacon  and  hardtack.  Then 
I  lighted  my  pipe,  and,  making  a  pillow  of  my 
saddle,  lay  down  to  rest. 

The  smoke  and  the  fatigue  of  the  night's  jour- 
ney soon  made  me  drowsy,  and  before  I  knew 
it  I  was  fast  asleep.  Suddenly  I  was  awakened 
by  a  loud  rumbling  noise.  I  seized  my  gun  in- 
stantly, and  sprang  toward  my  horse,  which  I 


278      BUFFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STORY 

had  picketed  in  a  hidden  spot  in  the  brush  near 
by  where  he  would  be  out  of  sight  of  any  passing 
Indians. 

Climbing  a  steep  hill,  I  looked  cautiously  over 
the  country  from  which  the  noise  appeared  to 
come.  There  before  me  was  a  great  herd  of  buf- 
falo, moving  at  full  gallop.  Twenty  Indians  were 
behind  it,  riding  hard  and  firing  into  the  herd 
as  they  rode.  Others  near  by  were  cutting  up 
the  carcasses  of  the  animals  that  had  already  been 
killed. 

I  saddled  my  horse  and  tied  him  near  me.  Then 
I  crawled  on  my  stomach  to  the  summit  of  the 
hill,  and  for  two  hours  I  lay  there  watching  the 
progress  of  the  chase. 

When  the  Indians  had  killed  all  the  buffalo 
they  wanted  they  rode  off  in  the  direction  whence 
they  had  come.  This  happened  to  be  the  way 
that  I  hoped  to  go  on  my  own  expedition.  I  made 
up  my  mind  that  their  camp  was  located  some- 
where between  me  and  Glendive  Creek.  I  was 
not  at  all  eager  to  have  any  communication  with 
these  gentlemen.  Therefore,  when  I  resumed  my 
journey  at  nightfall,  I  made  a  wide  detour  around 
the  place  where  I  believed  their  camp  would  be. 
I  avoided  it  successfully,  reaching  Colonel  Rice's 
camp  just  after  daybreak. 

The  colonel  had  been  fighting  Indians  almost 
every  day  since  he  encamped  at  this  poiiit.  He 
was  anxious  that  Terry  should  know  of  this  so 
that  reenforcements  might  be  sent,  and  the  coun- 
try cleared  of  the  redskins.    Of  course  it  fell 


BUFFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STOEY      27^ 

to  my  lot  to  carry  this  word  back  to  Terry. 

I  undertook  the  mission  willingly  enough,  for 
by  this  time  I  was  pretty  well  used  to  night  riding 
through  a  country  beset  with  perils,  and  rather 
enjoyed  it. 

The  strain  of  my  recent  rides  had  told  on  me, 
but  the  excitement  bore  me  up.  Indeed,  when  a 
man  is  engaged  in  work  of  this  kind,  the  exhila- 
ration is  such  that  he  forgets  all  about  the  wear 
and  tear  on  his  system,  and  not  until  all  danger 
is  over  and  he  is  safely  resting  in  camp  does 
he  begin  to  feel  what  he  has  been  through.  Then 
a  good  long  sleep  usually  puts  him  all  right  again. 

Many  and  many  a  time  I  have  driven  myself 
beyond' what  I  believed  was  the  point  of  physical 
endurance,  only  to  find  that  I  was  ready  for  still 
further  effort  if  the  need  should  arise.  The  fact 
that  I  continued  in  rugged  health  during  all  the 
time  I  was  on  the  Plains,  and  have  had  little  ill- 
ness throughout  my  life,  seems  to  prove  that  liv- 
ing and  working  outdoors,  despite  its  hardships, 
is  far  better  for  a  man  than  any  sedentary  occu- 
pation can  possibly  be. 

I  started  back  to  overhaul  General  Terry,  and 
on  the  third  day  out  I  found  him  at  the  head  of 
Deer  Creek.  He  was  on  his  way  to  Colonel  Eice's 
camp.  He  was  headed  in  the  right  direction,  but 
bearing  too  far  east.  He  asked  me  to  guide  his 
command  in  the  right  course,  which  I  did.  On 
arriving  at  Glendive  I  bade  good-by  to  the  general 
and  his  officers  and  took  passage  on  the  Far  West, 
which  was  on  her  way  down  the  Missouri.    At 


280      BUFFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STOEY 

Bismarck  I  left  the  steamer,  and  proceeded  by 
rail  to  Kochester,  New  York. 

It  has  been  a  great  pleasure  to  me  to  meet  and 
know  and  serve  with  such  men  as  Crook  and  Miles. 
I  had  served  long  enough  on  the  Plains  to  know 
Indian  fighters  when  I  saw  them,  and  I  cannot 
close  this  chapter  without  a  tribute  to  both  of 
these  men. 

Miles  had  come  to  the  West  as  a  young  man 
with  a  brilliant  war  record,  having  risen  to  a 
major-general  of  volunteers  at  the  age,  I  think, 
of  26  or  27. 

He  took  naturally  to  Indian  fighting.  He 
quickly  divested  himself  of  all  the  tactics  that 
were  useless  in  this  particular  kind  of  warfare, 
and  learned  as  much  about  the  Indians  as  any 
man  ever  knew. 

Years  later,  when  I  was  giving  my  Wild  West 
Show  in  Madison  Square  Garden,  General  Miles 
visited  it  as  my  guest. 

The  Indians  came  crowding  around  him,  and 
followed  him  wherever  he  went,  although  other 
army  officers  of  high  reputation  accompanied  him 
on  the  visit. 

This  Indian  escort  at  last  proved  to  be  almost 
embarrassing,  for  the  general  could  not  go  to 
any  part  of  the  Garden  without  four  or  five  of 
the  braves  silently  dogging  his  footsteps  and 
drinking  in  his  every  word. 

When  this  was  called  to  my  attention  I  called 
one  of  the  old  men  aside  and  asked  him  why  he 
and  his  brothers  followed  Miles  so  eagerly. 


BUFFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STOKY      281 

'  *  Heap  big  chief ! ' '  was  the  reply.  *  *  Him  lickum 
Injun  chiefs.  Him  biggest  White  Chief.  Heap 
likum.*'  Which  was  really  a  very  high  tribute, 
as  Indians  are  not  given  to  extravagant  praise. 

When  we  have  met  from  time  to  time  General 
Miles  has  been  kind  enough  to  speak  well  of  me 
and  the  work  I  have  done  on  the  Plains.  I  am 
very  glad  to  have  this  opportunity  of  returning 
the  compliment. 

Crook  was  a  man  who  lived  and  fought  without 
any  ostentation,  but  who  had  high  courage  and 
used  rare  judgment.  The  fact  that  he  had  com- 
mand of  the  forces  in  the  West  had  much  to 
do  with  their  successes  in  subduing  the  hostile  red 
man.  Indeed,  had  not  our  army  taught  the  In- 
dians that  it  was  never  safe,  and  usually  extremely 
dangerous,  to  go  on  the  warpath  against  the  Big 
White  Chief,  organizations  might  have  been 
formed  which  would  have  played  sad  havoc  with 
our  growing  Western  civilization. 

I  am  and  always  have  been  a  friend  of  the 
Indian.  I  have  always  sympathized  with  him  in 
his  struggle  to  hold  the  country  that  was  his  by 
right  of  birth. 

But  I  have  always  held  that  in  such  a  country 
as  America  the  march  of  civiUzation  was  inevita- 
ble, and  that  sooner  or  later  the  men  who  lived 
in  roving  tribes,  making  no  real  use  of  the  re- 
sources of  the  country,  would  be  compelled  to 
give  way  before  the  men  who  tilled  the  soil  and 
used  the  lands  as  the  Creator  intended  they  should 
be  used. 


282      BUFFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STOEY 

In  my  dealings  with  the  Eidians  we  always 
understood  each  other.  In  a  fight  we  did  our  best 
to  kill  each  other.  In  times  of  peace  we  were 
friends.  I  could  always  do  more  with  the  Indians 
than  most  white  men,  and  I  think  my  success 
in  getting  so  many  of  them  to  travel  with  my  or- 
ganization was  because  I  understood  them  and 
they  understood  me. 

Shrewd  as  were  the  generals  who  conducted 
the  fight  against  the  Indians,  I  believe  they  could 
have  done  little  without  the  services  of  the  men 
who  all  over  the  West  served  them  in  the  capacity 
of  scouts. 

The  adventures  of  small  scouting  parties  were 
at  times  even  more  thrilling  than  the  battles  be- 
tween the  Indians  and  the  troops. 

Among  the  ablest  of  the  scouts  I  worked  with 
in  the  West  were  Frank  Grouard  and  Baptiste 
Fourier.  At  one  time  in  his  childhood  Grouard 
was  to  all  intents  and  purposes  a  Sioux  Indian. 
He  lived  with  the  tribe,  hunted  and  fought  with 
them,  and  wore  the  breech-clout  as  his  only  sum- 
mer garment. 

He  met  some  hunters  and  trappers  while  liv- 
ing this  life.  Their  language  recalled  his  child- 
hood, and  he  presently  deserted  his  red-skinned 
friends  and  came  back  to  his  own  race. 

His  knowledge  of  the  tongues  of  the  Sioux, 
Cheyenne,  and  Crow  Indians  and  his  marvelous 
proficiency  in  the  universal  sign  language  made 
him  an  extremely  desirable  acquisition  to  the 
service. 


IHI^IJ^K' 

-  w^ 

^^^^^B 

'     ^B                         lllilr|r-^if| 

^^^^^^B  '^'' 

.v'vM     "^ 

■■^IBj 

^^H  1 

if                  ^humBMB^^^^Ml         '  iiiliM! 

Hi  i 

i^9h 

■l    1 

^H' 

^^^^^^^B  '"j^^^^By    «jiiir  "^  r^BI^^^^B^^^^^B 

^^v 

^bh^^^I 

^H 

i^^^l 

^^B 

1    f  '''9^^^^^^^^^^|hH 

^^L^ 

_4^^^^^H. 

BUFFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STOKY      283 

Grouard  and  **Big  Bat"  (Baptiste  Pourier) 
were  the  two  scouts  that  guided  Lieutenant  Sib- 
ley, a  young  oflScer  of  experience  and  ability,  on 
a  scout  with  about  thirty  officers  and  John  Fin- 
nerty  of  the  Chicago  Times,  a  newspaper  man 
who  was  known  all  over  the  West. 

At  eight  o'clock  at  night  they  left  their  halting- 
place.  Big  Goose  Creek,  and  in  the  silent  moon- 
light made  a  phantom  promenade  toward  the 
Little  Big  Horn. 

Presently  they  made  out  the  presence  of  a  war 
party  ahead  of  them,  and  one  of  the  scouts  of 
this  outfit  began  riding  around  in  a  circle,  which 
meant  that  the  enemy  had  been  discovered. 

There  were  too  many  Indians  to  fight  in  the 
open,  so  Grouard  l^d  the  soldiers  to  a  deep  thicket 
where  there  were  plenty  of  logs  and  fallen  timber 
out  of  which  to  make  breastworks. 

The  Indians  repeatedly  circled  around  them 
and  often  charged,  but  the  white  men,  facing  a 
massacre  like  that  of  Custer's  men,  steadily  held 
them  at  bay  by  accurate  shooting. 

Soon  red  reenforcements  began  to  arrive.  The 
Indians,  feeling  that  they  had  now  a  sufficient  ad- 
vantage, attempted  another  charge,  as  the  result 
of  which  they  lost  White  Antelope,  one  of  the 
bravest  of  their  chiefs. 

This  dampened  their  ardor,  but  they  kept  up 
an  incessant  firing  that  rattled  against  the  log 
breastworks  like  hailstones. 

Fearing  that  the  Indians  would  soon  start  a 
fire  and  bum  them  out,  Sibley  ordered  a  retreat. 


284      BUFFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STORY 

The  two  scouts  were  left  behind  to  keep  up  a 
desultory  fire  after  night  had  fallen,  in  order  to 
make  the  Lidians  think  the  party  was  still  in  its 
breastworks.  Then  the  other  men  in  single  file 
struggled  up  the  precipitous  sides  of  the  mountain 
above  them,  marching,  stumbling,  climbing,  and 
falling  according  to  the  character  of  the  ground 
they  passed  over. 

The  men  left  behind  finally  followed  on.  The 
temperature  fell  below  zero,  and  the  night  was 
one  of  suffering  and  horror.  At  last  they  gained 
a  point  in  the  mountains  about  twenty-five  miles 
distant  from  Crook's  command. 

Halting  in  a  sheltered  cave,  they  got  a  little 
sleep  and  started  out  just  in  time  to  escape  ob- 
servation by  a  large  war-party  which  was  scout- 
ing in  their  direction. 

At  night  the  jaded  party,  more  dead  than  alive, 
forded  Tongue  River  up  to  their  armpits.  Two 
were  so  exhausted  that  it  was  not  considered  ad- 
visable to  permit  them  to  plunge  into  the  icy 
stream,  and  they  were  left  on  the  bank  till  help 
could  be  sent  to  them. 

Those  that  got  across  dragged  themselves  over 
the  trail  to  Crook's  camp.  The  rocks  had  broken 
their  boots,  and  with  bleeding  feet  and  many  a 
bullet  wound  they  managed  to  get  within  sight 
of  the  camp,  where  two  men  of  the  Second  Cav- 
alry found  them  and  brought  them  in. 

Sibley's  men  threw  themselves  on  the  ground, 
too  exhausted  to  go  another  step.  Hot  food  was 
brought  them,  and  they  soon  were  strong  enough 


BUFFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STOKY      285 

to  go  to  Camp  Cloud  Peak,  to  receive  the  hos- 
pitality and  sympathy  of  their  comrades.  The 
two  men  who  had  been  left  behind  were  brought 
in  and  cared  for. 

This  expedition  was  one  of  the  most  perilous 
in  the  history  of  the  Plains,  and  the  fact  that  there 
were  any  survivors  is  due  to  the  skill,  coolness, 
and  courage  of  the  two  scouts,  Grouard  and 
Pourier. 


CHAPTER  X 

My  work  on  the  Plains  brought  me  many  friends, 
among  them  being  some  of  the  truest  and  staunch- 
est  that  any  man  ever  had.  You  who  live  your 
lives  in  cities  or  among  peaceful  ways  cannot 
always  tell  whether  your  friends  are  the  kind 
who  would  go  through  fire  for  you.  But  on  the 
Plains  one's  friends  have  an  opportunity  to  prove 
their  mettle.  And  I  found  out  that  most  of  mine 
would  as  cheerfully  risk  their  lives  for  me  as  they 
would  give  me  a  light  for  my  pipe  when  I  asked  it. 

Such  a  friend  was  old  ** Buffalo  Chips/'  who 
certainly  deserves  a  place  in  these  memoirs  of 
mine. 

One  morning  while  I  was  sitting  on  my  porch 
at  North  Platte,  playing  with  my  children,  I  saw 
a  man  limping  on  crutches  from  the  direction  of 
the  Post  hospital.  He  was  a  middle-aged  man, 
but  had  long,  flowing  white  hair,  and  the  most 
deeply-pitted  face  I  have  ever  beheld. 

Noticing  that  he  seemed  confused  and  in  trou- 
ble, I  sent  the  children  out  to  bring  him  to  me. 
He  came  up  haltingly,  and  in  response  to  my 
questioning  told  me  that  he  had  been  rejected 
by  the  hospital  because  he  had  been  a  Confed- 
erate soldier  and  it  was  against  their  rules  to 
accept  any  but  Union  veterans. 

I  turned  the  stranger  over  to  my  sister,  who 

286 


BUFFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STORY      287 

prepared  a  meal  for  him  while  I  went  over  to 
the  adjutant's  office  to  see  what  could  be  done. 
I  met  General  Emory  in  the  adjutant's  office,  and 
on  my  promise  to  pay  the  ex-Confederate's  bills, 
he  gave  me  an  order  admitting  him  to  the  hos- 
pital. Soon  my  new  protege,  who  said  his  name 
was  Jim  White,  was  duly  installed,  and  receiving 
the  treatment  of  which  he  stood  in  sore  need. 

In  a  few  weeks  he  had  nearly  recovered  from 
the  wound  in  his  leg  which  had  necessitated  the 
use  of  his  crutches.  Every  day  he  came  to  my 
house  to  play  with  the  children  and  to  care  for  my 
horses,  a  service  for  which  he  gruffly  refused  to 
accept  any  pay. 

Now  and  then  he  would  borrow  one  of  my  rifles 
for  a  little  practice.  I  soon  discovered  that  he 
was  a  splendid  shot,  as  well  as  an  unusually  fine 
horseman.  My  surprise  at  these  accomplishments 
was  somewhat  lessened  when  he  told  me  that  he 
had  spent  his  four  years'  war  service  as  one  of 
General  J.  E.  B.  Stuart's  scouts.  Stuart  had 
no  other  kind  of  men  in  his  command. 

For  years,  wherever  I  went,  no  matter  how 
dangerous  the  errand,  my  new  friend  went  along. 
The  first  time  he  followed  me  I  still  remember 
vividly.  I  had  left  the  Post  on  a  five  days'  scout, 
and  was  particularly  anxious  that  no  one  should 
know  the  direction  I  was  to  take. 

When  I  was  four  or  five  miles  from  the  Post 
I  looked  back  and  saw  a  solitary  horseman  riding 
in  my  direction  about  a  mile  in  my  rear.  When 
I  stopped  he  stopped.    I  rode  on  for  a  little  way 


288      BUFFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STOEY 

and  looked  around  again.  He  was  exactly  the 
same  distance  behind  me,  and  pulled  his  horse 
up  when  I  halted.  This  maneuver  I  repeated 
several  times,  always  with  the  same  result.  Con- 
siderably disquieted  by  this  mysterious  pursuit, 
I  decided  to  discover  the  reason  for  it.  I  whipped 
up  my  horse  and  when  I  had  put  a  sandhill  be- 
tween myself  and  the  man  behind  I  made  a  quick 
detour  through  a  ravine,  and  came  up  in  his  rear. 
Then  I  boldly  rode  up  till  I  came  abreast  of  him. 

He  swung  around  when  he  heard  me  coming, 
and  blushed  like  a  girl  when  he  saw  how  I  had 
tricked  him. 

**Look  here,  White,"  I  demanded,  ''what  the 
devil  are  you  following  me  in  this  way  forT' 

*'Mrs.  Cody  said  I  could  follow  you  if  I  wanted 
to,"  he  said,  *'and,  well,  I  just  followed  you, 
that's  all." 

That  was  all  he  would  say.  But  I  knew  that 
he  had  come  along  to  keep  me  from  getting  hurt 
if  I  was  attacked,  and  would  rather  die  than 
admit  his  real  reason.  So  I  told  him  to  come 
along,  and  come  along  he  did. 

There  was  no  need  for  his  services  on  that  occa- 
sion, but  a  little  later  he  put  me  in  debt  to  him 
for  my  life.  He  and  I  rode  together  into  a  bor- 
der town,  where  there  were  a  few  gentlemen  in 
the  horse-stealing  business  who  had  reason  to  wish 
me  moved  along  to  some  other  sphere.  I  left 
White  to  look  after  the  horses  as  we  reached  the 
town,  and  went  into  a  hotel  to  get  a  nip,  for  which 
I  felt  a  very  great  need.    White  noticed  a  couple 


BUFFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STORY      289 

of  rough-looking  chaps  behind  the  barn  as  he 
put  the  horses  away  and  quietly  slipped  to  a  win- 
dow where  he  could  overhear  their  conversation. 

**We'll  go  in  while  he  is  taking  a  drink/'  one 
of  them  was  saying,  **and  shoot  him  from  behind. 
He'll  never  have  a  chance." 

Without  a  word  to  me,  White  hurried  into  the 
hotel  and  got  behind  the  door.  Presently  the  two 
men  entered,  both  with  drawn  revolvers.  But 
before  they  could  raise  them  White  covered  them 
with  his  own  weapon  and  commanded  them  sternly 
to  throw  up  their  hands,  an  order  with  which  they 
instantly  complied  after  one  look  at  his  face. 

I  wheeled  at  the  order,  and  recognized  his  two 
captives  as  the  men  I  was  looking  for,  a  pair 
of  horse-thieves  and  murderers  whom  I  had  been 
sent  to  apprehend.  My  revolvers  were  put  into 
instant  requisition,  and  I  kept  them  covered  while 
White  removed  the  guns  with  which  they  had 
expected  to  put  me  out  of  their  way. 

With  White's  help  I  conducted  these  gentle- 
men forty  miles  back  to  the  sheriff's  office,  and 
they  walked  every  step  of  the  way.  Each  of  them 
got  ten  years  in  the  penitentiary  as  soon  as  they 
could  be  tried.  They  either  forgave  me  or  forgot 
me  when  they  got  out,  for  I  never  heard  of  either 
of  them  again. 

In  the  campaign  of  1876  I  secured  employment 
for  White  as  a  scout.  He  was  with  me  when 
Terry  and  Crook's  commands  separated  on  the 
Yellowstone.  By  this  time  he  had  come  to  copy 
my  gait,  my  dress,  my  speech,  and  even  my  fashion 


290      BUFFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STOKY 

of  wearing  my  hair  down  on  my  shoulders,  though 
mine  at  that  time  was  brown,  and  his  was  white 
as  the  driven  snow. 

We  were  making  a  raid  on  an  Indian  village, 
which  was  peopled  with  very  lively  and  very  bel- 
ligerent savages.  I  had  given  White  an  old  red- 
lined  coat,  one  which  I  had  worn  conspicuously 
in  a  number  of  battles,  and  which  the  Indians 
had  marked  as  a  special  target  on  that  account. 

A  party  of  Indians  had  been  driven  from  among 
the  lodges  into  a  narrow  gorge,  and  some  of  the 
soldiers,  among  them  Captain  Charles  King,  had 
gone  after  them.  As  they  were  proceeding  cau- 
tiously, keeping  under  cover  as  much  as  possible, 
King  observed  White  creeping  along  the  opposite 
bluff,  rifle  in  hand,  looking  for  a  chance  at  the 
savages  huddled  below,  and  hoping  to  distract 
their  fire  so  they  would  do  as  little  damage  as 
possible  to  the  soldiers  who  were  closing  in  on 
them. 

White  crawled  along  on  all-fours  till  he  reached 
a  stunted  tree  on  the  brim  of  the  ravine.  There 
he  halted,  brought  his  rifle  to  his  shoulder  in 
readiness  to  aim  and  raised  himself  slowly  to 
his  feet.  He  was  about  to  fire,  when  one  of  the 
Indians  in  the  hole  below  spotted  the  red-lined 
coat.  There  was  a  crack,  a  puff  of  smoke,  and 
White  toppled  over,  with  a  bullet  through  his 
heart.  The  coat  had  caught  the  attention  of  the 
savages,  and  thus  I  had  been  the  innocent  means 
of  my  friend's  death;  for,  with  the  soldiers  press- 
ing them  so  hard,  it  is  not  likely  that  any  of  the 


BUFFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STORY      291 

warriors  would  have  wasted  a  shot  had  they  not 
thought  they  were  getting  Pa-ho-has-ka.  For  a 
long  time  the  Indians  believed  that  I  would  be 
a  menace  to  them  no  more  forever.  But  they 
discovered  their  mistake  later,  and  I  sent  a  good 
many  of  them  to  the  Happy  Hunting-Grounds  as 
a  sort  of  tribute  to  my  friend. 

Poor  old  White!  A  more  faithful  man  never 
took  a  trail,  nor  a  braver.  He  was  a  credit  to  me, 
and  to  the  name  which  General  Sheridan  had  first 
given  him  in  derision,  but  which  afterward  became 
an  honor,  the  name  of  ** Buffalo  Chips.'' 

When  Terry  and  Crook's  commands  joined  on 
the  Yellowstone  both  commands  went  into  camp 
together  and  guards  were  placed  to  prevent  sur- 
prise. The  scene  was  typical  of  the  Old  West, 
but  it  would  astonish  anyone  whose  whole  idea  of 
warfare  has  been  gained  by  a  visit  to  a  modem 
military  post  or  training  camp,  or  the  vast  camps 
where  the  reserve  forces  are  drilled  and  equipped 
for  the  great  European  war. 

Generals  Crook,  Merritt,  and  Carr  were  in 
rough  hunting  rigs,  utterly  without  any  mark  of 
their  rank.  Deerskin,  buckskin,  corduroy,  can- 
vas, and  rags  indiscriminately  covered  the  rest 
of  the  command,  so  that  unless  you  knew  the 
men  it  was  totally  impossible  to  distinguish  be- 
tween officers  and  enlisted  men.  However,  every 
one  in  the  commands  knew  every  one  else,  and 
there  was  no  confusion. 

A  great  part  of  that  night  was  spent  in  swap- 
ping stories  of  recent  experiences.    All  of  them 


292      BUFFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STORY 

were  thrilling,  even  to  veteran  campaigners  fresh 
from  the  trail.  There  was  no  need  of  drawing 
the  long  bow  in  those  days.  The  truth  was  plenty- 
exciting  enough  to  suit  the  most  exacting,  and 
we  sat  about  like  schoolboys,  drinking  in  each 
other's  tales,  and  telling  our  own  in  exchange. 

A  story  of  a  personal  adventure  and  a  hair- 
breadth escape  in  which  Lieutenant  De  Rudio  fig- 
ured was  so  typical  of  the  fighting  days  of  the 
iWest  that  I  want  my  readers  to  know  it.  I  shall 
tell  it,  as  nearly  as  I  can,  just  as  it  came  to  me 
around  the  flickering  fire  in  that  picturesque  bor- 
der camp. 

De  Rudio  had  just  returned  from  his  adventure, 
and  he  told  it  to  us  between  puffs  of  his  pipe  so 
realistically  that  I  caught  several  of  my  old 
friends  of  the  Plains  peering  about  into  the  dark- 
ness as  if  to  make  sure  that  no  lurking  redskins 
were  creeping  up  on  them. 

In  the  fight  of  a  few  days  before  De  Rudio 
was  guarding  a  pony  crossing  with  eight  men 
when  one  of  them  sang  out: 

** Lieutenant,  get  your  horse,  quick.  Reno  (the 
commander  of  the  outfit)  is  retreating!"  No 
trumpet  had  sounded,  however,  and  no  orders  had 
been  given,  so  the  lieutenant  hesitated  to  retire. 
His  men  left  in  a  hurry,  but  he  remained,  quietly 
waiting  for  the  call. 

Presently,  looking  behind  him,  he  saw  thirty 
or  forty  Indians  coming  full  gallop.  He  wheeled 
and  started  to  get  into  safer  quarters.  As  he 
did  so  they  cut  loose  with  a  volley.    He  leaned 


.    BUFFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STOBY      293 

low  on  his  horse  as  they  shot,  and  the  bullets  sang 
harmlessly  over  his  head. 

Before  him  was  a  fringe  of  thick  underbrush 
along  the  river,  and  into  this  he  forced  his  un- 
willing horse.  The  bullets  followed  and  clipped 
the  twigs  about  him  like  scissors.  At  last  he 
gained  the  creek,  forded,  and  mounted  the  bank 
on  the  other  side.  Here,  instead  of  safety,  he 
found  hundreds  of  Indians,  all  busily  shooting 
at  the  soldiers,  who  were  retreating  discreetly 
in  the  face  of  a  greatly  superior  force.  He  was 
entirely  cut  off  from  retreat,  unless  he  chose  to 
make  a  bold  dash  for  his  life  right  through  the 
middle  of  the  Indians.  This  he  was  about  to  do, 
when  a  young  Indian,  who  had  observed  him,  sent 
a  shot  after  him,  and  his  horse  fell  dead  under 
him,  rolling  over  and  over,  while  he  managed  to 
scramble  to  his  feet. 

The  shot  had  attracted  the  attention  of  all  the 
Indians  in  that  immediate  neighborhood,  and  there 
were  plenty  of  them  there  for  all  offensive  pur- 
poses. De  Rudio  jumped  down  the  creek  bank 
and  hid  in  an  excavation  while  a  hail  of  bullets 
spattered  the  water  ahead  of  him  and  raised  a 
dozen  little  clouds  of  dust  at  his  feet. 

So  heavy  had  this  volley  been  that  the  Indians 
decided  that  the  bullets  had  done  their  work,  and 
a  wild  yell  broke  from  them. 

Suddenly  the  yell  changed  to  another  sort  of 
outcry,  and  the  firing  abruptly  ceased.  Peering 
out,  De  Rudio  saw  Captain  Benteen  's  column  com- 
ing up  over  the  hill.    He  began  to  hope  that  his 


294      BUFFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STORY 

rescue  was  at  hand.  But  in  a  few  minutes  the 
soldiers  disappeared  and  the  Indians  all  started 
off  after  them. 

Just  beyond  the  hill  was  the  noise  of  a  lively 
battle,  and  he  made  up  his  mind  that  Reno 's  com- 
mand had  rallied,  and  that  if  he  could  join  them 
he  might  be  saved. 

Working  his  way  softly  through  the  brush  he 
was  nearing  the  summit  of  the  slope  when  he 
heard  his  name  whispered  and  saw  three  of  his 
own  company  in  the  brush.  Two  of  them  were 
mounted.    The  horse  of  the  third  had  been  killed. 

The  three  men  remained  in  the  bushes,  lying 
as  low  as  they  could  and  making  no  sound.  Look- 
ing out  now  and  then,  they  could  see  an  old  Indian 
woman  going  about,  taking  scalps  and  mutilating 
the  bodies  of  the  soldiers  who  had  been  slain. 
Most  of  the  warriors  were  occupied  with  the  bat- 
tle, but  now  and  then  a  warrior,  suspicious  that 
soldiers  were  still  lurking  in  the  brush,  would  ride 
over  in  their  direction  and  fire  a  few  shots  that 
whistled  uncomfortably  close  to  their  heads. 

Presently  the  firing  on  the  hill  ceased,  and  hun- 
dreds of  Indians  came  slowly  back.  But  they 
were  hard  pressed  by  the  soldiers,  and  the  battle 
was  soon  resumed,  to  break  out  intermittently 
through  the  entire  night. 

In  a  quiet  interval  the  two  soldiers  got  their 
horses,  and  with  their  companion  and  De  Rudio 
holding  to  the  animals '  tails  forded  the  river  and 
made  a  detour  round  the  Indians.  Several  times 
they  passed  close   to  Indians.     Once   or  twice 


BUFFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STOEY      295 

they  were  fired  on  and  answered  the  fire,  but  their 
luck  was  with  them  and  they  escaped  bringing  a 
general  attack  down  upon  them. 

As  they  were  making  their  way  toward  the  edge 
of  the  clearing  they  saw  directly  before  them 
a  party  of  men  dressed  in  the  ragged  uniforms 
of  American  cavalrymen,  and  all  drew  deep 
breaths  of  relief.  Help  seemed  now  at  hand.  But 
just  as  they  sprang  forward  to  join  their  supposed 
comrades  a  fiendish  yell  broke  from  the  horsemen. 
In  another  instant  the  four  unfortunates  were 
rushing  to  cover,  with  a  dozen  Indians,  all  dressed 
in  the  clothing  taken  from  dead  soldiers,  in  hot 
pursuit. 

The  Indians  had  been  planning  a  characteristic 
piece  of  Sioux  strategy.  As  fast  as  it  could  be 
accomplished  they  had  been  stripping  the  clothing 
from  dead  and  wounded  soldiers  and  garbing 
themselves  in  it  with  the  purpose  of  deceiving  the 
outposts  of  Eeno's  command  and  surprising  the 
Americans  as  soon  as  day  broke.  Had  it  not 
been  for  the  accidental  discovery  of  the  ruse  by 
De  Kudio's  party  it  might  have  succeeded  only 
too  well. 

The  lieutenant  and  his  companions  managed  to 
get  away  safely  and  to  find  shelter  in  the  woods. 
But  the  Indians  immediately  fired  the  underbrush 
and  drove  them  further  and  further  on.  Then, 
just  as  they  had  begun  to  despair  of  their  lives, 
their  pursuers,  who  had  been  circling  around  the 
tangle  of  scrub  growth,  began  singing  a  slow 
chant  and  withdrew  to  the  summit  of  the  hill. 


296      BIIPFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STOEY 

There  they  remained  in  council  a  little  time  and 
then  cantered  away  single  file. 

Fearing  another  trap,  the  white  men  remained 
for  weary  hours  in  their  hiding-place,  but  at  last 
were  compelled  by  thirst  and  hunger  to  come  out. 

No  Indians  were  visible,  nor  did  any  appear 
as,  worn  out  and  dispirited,  they  dragged  them- 
selves to  the  camp  of  the  soldiers.  In  the  forty- 
eight  hours  since  he  had  been  cut  off  from  his 
command  De  Kudio  had  undergone  all  the  horrors 
of  Indian  warfare  and  a  hundred  times  had  given 
himself  up  for  dead. 

Bullets  had  passed  many  times  within  a  few 
inches  of  him.  Half  a  dozen  times  only  a  lucky 
chance  had  intervened  between  him  and  the  hor- 
rible death  that  Indians  know  so  well  how  to  in- 
flict. Yet,  save  for  the  bruises  from  his  fall  off 
his  horse,  and  the  abrasions  of  the  brush  through 
which  he  had  traveled,  he  had  never  received  a 
scratch. 


CHAPTER  XI 

Of  all  the  Indians  I  encountered  in  my  years 
on  the  Plains  the  most  resourceful  and  intelligent, 
as  well  as  the  most  dangerous,  were  the  Sioux. 
They  had  the  courage  of  dare-devils  combined 
with  real  strategy.  They  mastered  the  white 
man's  tactics  as  soon  as  they  had  an  opportunity 
to  observe  them.  Incidentally  they  supplied  all 
thinking  and  observing  white  commanders  with 
a  great  deal  that  was  well  worth  learning  in  the 
art  of  warfare.  The  Sioux  fought  to  win,  and 
in  a  desperate  encounter  were  absolutely  reckless 
of  life. 

But  they  also  fought  wisely,  and  up  to  the  min- 
ute of  closing  in  they  conserved  their  own  lives 
with  a  vast  amount  of  cleverness.  The  maxim 
put  into  words  by  the  old  Confederate  fox,  Fol:- 
rest:  **Get  there  fustest  with  the  mostest," 
was  always  a  fighting  principle  with  the 
Sioux. 

They  were  a  strong  race  of  men,  the  braves 
tall,  with  finely  shaped  heads  and  handsome  fea- 
tures. They  had  poise  and  dignity  and  a  great 
deal  of  pride,  and  they  seldom  forgot  either  a 
friend  or  an  enemy. 

The  greatest  of  all  the  Sioux  in  my  time,  or  in 
any  time  for  that  matter,  was  that  wonderful  old 
fighting  man,  Sitting  Bull,  whose  life  will  some 

287 


298      BUFFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STORY 

day  be  written  by  a  historian  who  can  really  give 
him  his  due. 

Sitting  Bnll  it  was  who  stirred  the  Lidians  to 
.the  uprising  whose  climax  was  the  massacre  of 
the  Little  Big  Horn  and  the  destruction  of  Cus- 
ter's command. 

For  months  before  this  uprising  he  had  been 
going  to  and  fro  among  the  Sioux  and  their  allies 
urging  a  revolt  against  the  encroaching  white 
man.  It  was  easy  at  that  time  for  the  Indians 
to  secure  rifles.  The  Canadian-French  traders 
to  the  north  were  only  too  glad  to  trade  them 
these  weapons  for  the  splendid  supplies  of  furs 
which  the  Indians  had  gathered.  Many  of  these 
rifles  were  of  excellent  construction,  and  on  a 
number  of  occasions  we  discovered  to  our  cost 
that  they  outranged  the  army  carbines  with  which 
we  were  equipped. 

After  the  Custer  massacre  the  frontier  became 
decidedly  unsafe  for  Sitting  Bull  and  the  chiefs 
who  were  associated  with  him,  and  he  quietly 
withdrew  to  Canada,  where  he  was  for  the  time 
being  safe  from  pursuit. 

There  he  stayed  till  his  followers  began  leav- 
ing him  and  returning  to  their  reservations  in  the 
United  States.  Soon  he  had  only  a  remnant  of 
his  followers  and  his  immediate  family  to  keep 
him  company.  Warily  he  began  negotiating  for 
immunity,  and  when  he  was  fully  assured  that 
if  he  would  use  his  influence  to  quiet  his  people 
and  keep  them  from  the  warpath  his  life  would 
be  spared,  he  consented  to  return. 


BUFFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STORY      299 

He  had  been  lonely  and  unhappy  in  Canada. 
An  accomplished  orator  and  a  man  with  a  gift 
of  leadership,  he  had  pined  for  audiences  to  sway 
and  for  men  to  do  his  bidding.  He  felt  sure  that 
these  would  be  restored  to  him  once  he  came 
back  among  his  people.  As  to  his  pledges,  I  have 
no  doubt  that  he  fully  intended  to  live  up  to  them. 
He  carried  in  his  head  all  the  treaties  that  had 
been  made  between  his  people  and  the  white  men, 
and  could  recite  their  minutest  details,  together 
with  the  dates  of  their  making  and  the  names 
of  the  men  who  had  signed  for  both  sides. 

But  he  was  a  stickler  for  the  rights  of  his  race, 
and  he  devoted  far  more  thought  to  the  trend 
of  events  than  did  most  of  his  red  brothers. 

Here  was  his  case,  as  he  often  presented  it  to 
me: 

**The  White  Man  has  taken  most  of  our  land. 
He  has  paid  us  nothing  for  it.  He  has  destroyed 
or  driven  away  the  game  that  was  our  meat.  In 
1868  he  arranged  to  build  through  the  Indians' 
land  a  road  on  which  ran  iron  horses  that  ate 
wood  and  breathed  fire  and  smoke.  We  agreed. 
This  road  was  only  as  wide  as  a  man  could  stretch 
his  arms.  But  the  White  Man  had  taken  from 
the  Indians  the  land  for  twenty  miles  on  both 
sides  of  it.  This  land  he  had  sold  for  money  to 
people  in  the  East.  It  was  taken  from  the  In- 
dians.   But  the  Indians  got  nothing  for  it. 

**The  iron  horse  brought  from  the  East  men 
and  women  and  children,  who  took  the  land  from 
the  Indians  and  drove  out  the  game.    They  built 


300      BUFFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STORY 

fires,  and  tlie  fires  spread  and  burned  the  prairie 
grass  on  which  the  buffalo  fed.  Also  it  destroyed 
the  pasturage  for  the  ponies  of  the  Indians.  Soon 
the  friends  of  the  first  White  Men  came  and  took 
more  land.  Then  cities  arose  and  always  the 
White  Man's  lands  were  extended  and  the  Indians 
pushed  farther  and  farther  away  from  the  country 
that  the  Great  Father  had  given  them  and  that 
had  always  been  theirs. 

**When  treaties  were  broken  and  the  Indians 
trespassed  on  the  rights  of  the  White  Man,  my 
chiefs  and  I  were  always  here  to  adjust  the  White 
Man's  wrongs. 

**When  treaties  were  broken  and  the  Indians* 
rights  were  infringed,  no  one  could  find  the  white 
chiefs.  They  were  somewhere  back  toward  the 
rising  sun.  There  was  no  one  to  give  us  justice. 
New  chiefs  of  the  White  Men  came  to  supplant 
the  old  chiefs.  They  knew  nothing  of  our  wrongs 
and  laughed  at  us. 

**When  the  Sioux  left  Minnesota  and  went  be- 
yond the  Big  Muddy  the  white  chiefs  promised 
them  they  would  never  again  be  disturbed.  Then 
they  followed  us  across  the  river,  and  when  we 
asked  for  lands  they  gave  us  each  a  prairie 
chicken's  flight  four  ways  (a  hundred  and  sixty 
acres) ;  this  they  gave  us,  who  once  had  all  the 
land  there  was,  and  whose  habit  is  to  roam  as 
far  as  a  horse  can  carry  us  and  then  continue 
our  journey  till  we  have  had  our  fill  of  wan- 
dering. 

/*We  are  not  as  many  as  the  White  Man.    But 


BUFFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STORY      301 

we  know  that  this  land  is  onr  land.  And  while 
we  live  and  can  fight,  we  will  fight  for  it.  If  the 
White  Man  does  not  want  us  to  fight,  why  does 
he  take  our  land?  If  we  come  and  build  our 
lodges  on  the  White  Man's  land,  the  White  Man 
drives  us  away  or  kills  us.  Have  we  not  the  same 
right  as  the  White  Man?" 

The  forfeiture  of  the  Black  Hills  and  unwise 
reduction  of  rations  kept  alive  the  Indian  dis- 
content. When,  in  1889,  Congress  passed  a  law 
dividing  the  Sioux  reservation  into  many  smaller 
ones  so  as  to  isolate  the  different  tribes  of  the 
Dakota  nation  a  treaty  was  offered  them.  This 
provided  payment  for  the  ponies  captured  or  de- 
stroyed in  the  war  of  1876  and  certain  other  con- 
cessions, in  return  for  which  the  Indians  were  to 
cede  about  half  their  land,  or  eleven  million  acres, 
which  was  to  be  opened  up  for  settlement. 

The  treaty  was  submitted  to  the  Indians  for  a 
vote.  They  came  in  from  the  woods  and  the 
plains  to  vote  on  it,  and  it  was  carried  by  a  very 
narrow  majority,  many  of  the  Indians  insisting 
that  they  had  been  coerced  by  their  necessities  into 
casting  favorable  ballots. 

Congress  delayed  and  postponed  the  fulfillment 
of  the  promised  conditions,  and  the  Indian  unrest 
increased  as  the  months  went  by.  Even  after 
the  land  had  been  taken  over  and  settled  up. 
Congress  did  not  pass  the  appropriation  that  was 
necessary  before  the  Indians  could  get  their 
money. 

Sitting  Bull  was  appealed  to  for  aid,  and  once 


302      BUFFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STOEY 

more  began  employing  his  powerful  gift  of  ora- 
tory in  the  interest  of  armed  resistance  against 
the  white  man. 

Just  at  this  time  a  legend  whose  origin  was 
beyond  all  power  to  fathom  became  current  among 
the  red  men  of  the  north. 

From  one  tribe  to  another  spread  the  tidings 
that  a  Messiah  was  to  come  back  to  earth  to  use 
his  miraculous  power  in  the  interest  of  the  Indian. 
The  whites  were  to  be  driven  from  the  land  of 
the  red  man.  The  old  days  of  the  West  were 
to  be  restored.  The  ranges  were  to  be  re-stocked 
with  elk,  antelope,  deer,  and  buffalo. 

Soon  a  fever  of  fanaticism  had  infected  every 
tribe.  Not  alone  were  the  Sioux  the  victims  of 
this  amazing  delusion,  but  every  tribe  on  the 
continent  shared  in  it. 

There  was  to  be  a  universal  brotherhood  of  red 
men.  Old  enmities  were  forgotten.  Former  foes 
became  fast  friends.  The  Yaquis  in  Mexico  sent 
out  word  that  they  would  be  ready  for  the  great 
Armageddon  when  it  came.  As  far  north  as 
Alaska  there  were  ghost  dances  and  barbaric  fes- 
tivities to  celebrate  the  coming  restoration  of  the 
Indian  to  the  lands  of  his  inheritance. 

And  as  the  Indians  danced,  they  talked  and 
sang  and  thought  of  war,  while  their  hatred  of 
the  white  man  broke  violently  forth. 

Very  much  disquieted  at  the  news  of  what  was 
going  on  the  War  Department  sent  out  word  to 
stop  the  dancing  and  singing.  Stop  it  I  You  could 
as  easily  have  stopped  the  eruption  of  Mount 


BUFFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STOKY      303 

Lassen!  Among  the  other  beliefs  that  spread 
among  the  Lidians  was  one  that  all  the  sick  would 
be  healed  and  be  able  to  go  into  battle,  and  that 
young  and  old,  squaws  and  braves  alike,  would 
be  given  shirts  which  would  turn  the  soldiers' 
bullets  like  armor-plate. 

Every  redskin  believed  that  he  could  not  be 
injured.  None  of  them  had  any  fear  of  battle, 
or  any  suspicions  that  he  could  be  injured  in  the 
course  of  the  great  holy  war  that  was  to  come. 


CHAPTEE  XII 

In  November,  1890,  I  was  returning  from  Eu- 
rope with  my  Wild  West  Company.  When  the 
New  York  pilot  came  aboard  he  brought  a  big 
packet  of  papers.  That  was  before  the  days  of 
wireless,  and  we  had  had  no  tidings  of  what  was 
going  on  in  the  world  since  we  had  left  the  other 
side. 

As  he  came  up  the  ladder  he  recognized  me, 
and  shouted:  ** Colonel,  there's  a  big  Indian  war 
started!    I  guess  you'll  be  needed  out  there." 

I  seized  the  papers  and  eagerly  read  the  details 
of  the  threatened  outbreak.  I  was  not  surprised 
when,  on  arriving  at  Quarantine,  I  was  handed 
a  telegram  from  General  Miles. 

I  was  requested  to  come  to  Chicago  as  soon 
as  possible,  and  to  telegraph  the  time  of  my 
arrival.  Canceling  all  New  York  engagements, 
I  caught  the  first  train  for  the  West,  and  in 
thirty-six  hours  reported  to  General  Miles  in  his 
headquarters. 

He  briefly  described  to  me  what  had  been  hap- 
pening and  went  over  with  me  the  maps  of  the 
Western  States  where  the  Indians  were  getting 
ready  for  war.  He  said  that  it  was  his  under- 
standing that  the  Bad  Lands  of  North  Dakota 
had  been  selected  as  the  battle-ground  by  the  In- 
dians, and  asked  me  to  give  him  all  the  informa- 

804 


BUFFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STORY      305 

tion  I  possessed  about  that  country  and  its  acces- 
sibility for  troops. 

Miles  was  about  to  leave  for  the  Pine  Ridge 
Agency,  and  take  command  of  the  campaign  to 
put  down  the  Indians. 

I  was  thoroughly  familiar  with  the  Bad  Lands, 
and  spent  an  hour  or  more  in  discussing  the  com- 
ing campaign  with  the  general.  We  both  agreed 
that  the  Indians  had  selected  a  particularly  good 
country  for  their  uprising,  and  an  especially  good 
season,  as  in  winter,  with  the  hills  covered  with 
snow,  and  blizzards  of  almost  daily  occurrence, 
it  would  be  far  harder  to  hunt  them  out  than  in 
sununer,  when  the  troops  could  travel  easily. 

Miles  said  that  Sitting  Bull  had  his  camp  some- 
where within  forty  or  fifty  miles  of  the  Standing 
Rock  Agency,  and  was  haranguing  the  Indians 
thereabout,  spreading  the  Messiah  talk  and  get- 
ting them  to  join  him.  He  asked  me  if  I  could 
go  immediately  to  Standing  Rock  and  Fort  Yates, 
and  thence  to  Sitting  BulPs  camp. 

He  knew  that  I  was  an  old  friend  of  the  chief, 
and  he  believed  that  if  any  one  could  induce  the 
old  fox  to  abandon  his  plans  for  a  general  war  I 
could.  If  I  could  not  dissuade  him  from  the  war- 
path the  general  was  of  the  opinion  that  I  might 
be  able  to  delay  him  in  taking  it,  so  that  troops 
could  be  sent  into  the  country  in  time  to  prevent 
a  horrible  massacre  of  the  defenseless  white 
settlers,  who  were  already  in  terror  of  their 
lives. 

I  knew  that  this  would  be  the  most  dangerous 


306      BUFFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STORY 

undertaking  of  my  career.  I  was  sure  that  if  I 
could  reach  Sitting  Bull  he  would  at  least  listen 
to  me.  But  in  the  present  inflamed  state  of  the 
Indian  mind  it  would  be  next  to  impossible  to 
get  to  his  camp  alive. 

Nevertheless  I  was  quite  ready  to  take  the 
risk.  I  knew  what  fearful  damage  could  be  done 
by  a  sudden  uprising  of  fanatical  and  infuriated 
Indians,  and  any  danger  to  me  personally  was 
as  nothing  to  the  importance  of  preventing  such 
a  thing,  if  possible. 

Having  no  standing  as  an  army  officer  or  as 
a  Government  agent,  it  was  necessary  for  me  to 
be  supplied  with  some  sort  of  credentials,  in  order 
to  secure  the  assistance  I  should  need  on  my 
mission.  When  I  informed  General  Miles  of  this 
he  took  one  of  his  visiting-cards  from  a  case  and 
wrote  the  following  on  the  back  of  it : 

To  Commanding  Officers  of  United  States  Tkoops  : 

Furnish  Colonel  William  F.  Cody  with  any  assistance  or  escort 
that  he  may  ask  for.  Nelson  A.  Miles. 

I  took  the  next  train  for  Mandan,  N.  D.,  which 
was  the  station  nearest  the  Standing  Eock  Agency. 
There  I  hired  a  livery  team  and  driver  for  the 
ride  of  sixty-five  miles  to  the  Agency.  I  had 
considerable  difficulty  in  securing  a  driver,  as 
the  report  had  gone  abroad  that  all  the  Indians 
were  on  the  warpath,  and  few  of  the  settlers  cared 
to  risk  their  scalps  on  such  a  venture.  But  I  went 
higher  and  higher  in  my  offers,  till  at  last  a  livery- 


BUFFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STOEY      307 

man  figured  that  a  hundred  dollars  was  sufficient 
reward  for  the  risk,  and,  hitching  up  his  team, 
told  me  to  come  along. 

After  an  intensely  cold  drive  we  reached  the 
Agency,  where  I  hurried  into  the  trader's  store 
to  thaw  out  by  his  stove.  I  had  hardly  arrived 
before  the  trader  came  in  and  told  me  that  Major 
McLaughlin,  the  Indian  agent,  wanted  to  see  me. 
News  travels  very  fast  in  the  Indian  country, 
especially  in  war  times.  Someone  about  the 
Post  who  had  seen  me  driving  in  had  hur- 
ried to  headquarters  to  inform  the  agent  that 
Buffalo  Bill  had  arrived  by  way  of  reenforce- 
ments. 

As  soon  as  I  got  my  chilled  blood  into  circula- 
tion I  went  to  the  major's  quarters,  and  informed 
him  of  the  purpose  of  my  visit.  We  were  old 
friends,  and  he  was  very  glad  to  see  me,  but  he 
was  much  concerned  on  learning  what  I  intended 
to  do. 

**That  is  impossible!"  he  said.  "The  Sioux 
are  threatening  a  great  war.  At  this  very  mo- 
ment we  do  not  know  when  the  Indians  here  at 
the  Agency  may  rise.  We  can  take  care  of  our 
own  situation,  for  we  have  four  troops  of  cav- 
alry here,  but  we  cannot  permit  you  to  go  to 
Sitting  Bull's  camp.  Not  only  would  you  be  killed 
before  you  got  halfway  there,  but  your  presence 
in  the  country  would  precipitate  hostilities  for 
which  we  are  not  in  the  least  prepared.  I'm 
sorry,  Cody,  but  it  can't  be  done." 

More  fully  to  persuade  me  of  the  truth  of  what 


308      BUFFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STORY 

lie  said  he  took  me  to  the  quarters  of  Colonel 
Brown,  the  commander  of  the  troops  at  the 
Agency,  and  asked  him  to  talk  to  me.  Brown 
listened  to  my  statement  of  what  I  proposed  and 
shook  his  head. 

**I've  heard  of  you,  Cody,  and  of  your  nerve, 
but  this  is  more  than  even  you  can  do.  Sitting 
Bull's  camp  is  forty  miles  away,  and  the  country 
between  here  and  there  is  swarming  with  In- 
dians all  ready  to  go  on  the  warpath,  and  wholly 
beyond  the  sway  of  reason.  I  cannot  permit  you 
to  make  this  attempt.'' 

*  *  Do  you  hear,  Cody  ? ' '  said  McLaughlin.  *  *  The 
only  thing  for  you  to  do  is  to  stay  all  night  with 
us  and  then  return  to  the  railroad.  Even  that 
will  be  risky  enough,  even  for  you."  **But  go 
you  must, ' '  added  Brown.  *  *  The  Agency  is  under 
martial  law,  and  I  cannot  permit  you  to  remain 
any  longer  than  tomorrow  morning." 

There  was  no  arguing  with  these  men.  So  I 
resorted  to  my  credentials.  Taking  General 
Miles 's  card  from  my  pocket,  I  laid  it  before 
Colonel  Brown. 

*'What  does  this  mean?"  he  demanded,  and 
passed  the  card  to  McLaughlin. 

**It  looks  like  orders,"  said  McLaughlin. 

**Yes,"  said  Brown,  **and  I  can't  disobey 
them." 

Just  then  Captain  Fatchett,  an  old  friend  of 
mine,  came  into  the  quarters,  and  Brown  turned 
me  over  to  him  for  entertainment  until  I  should 
formulate  my  plans  for  my  visit  to  Sitting  Bull. 


BUFFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STORY      309 

I  had  never  served  with  the  Eighth  Cavalry  to 
which  the  companies  at  the  Post  belonged,  but 
I  had  many  friends  among  the  officers,  and  spent 
a  very  pleasant  afternoon  and  evening  talking 
over  old  times,  and  getting  information  about  the 
present  situation. 

After  guard-mount  the  next  morning  I  told 
Colonel  Brown  that  I  did  not  think  I  would  re- 
quire an  escort  for  my  visit,  as  the  presence  of 
a  number  of  armed  men  in  the  Indian  country 
would  be  sure  to  start  the  trouble  it  was  our  pur- 
pose to  avoid,  or  to  delay  as  long  as  possible. 
The  man  who  had  driven  me  over  was  anxious 
to  return  at  once,  so  I  asked  for  a  light  spring- 
wagon  and  a  team  of  mules. 

**Wait  an  hour  or  two,"  said  the  colonel,  **and 
I'll  send  the  quartermaster  to  you." 

I  waited,  and  he  employed  the  time,  as  I  after- 
ward learned,  in  telegraphing  to  General  Miles,  to 
the  Commissioner  of  Indian  Affairs,  to  the  Sec- 
retary of  the  Interior,  and  to  President  Har- 
rison. He  informed  all  of  them  that  I  was  there, 
insisting  on  going  to  Sitting  Bull's  camp,  and 
that  such  an  errand  would  not  only  result  in 
my  death,  but  would  precipitate  the  outbreak  then 
brewing,  and  for  which  he  was  not  at  all  pre- 
pared. He  besought  all  of  them  to  instruct  me 
to  return  to  Mandan. 

While  he  waited  for  replies  to  his  dispatches 
I  hunted  about  the  camp  for  someone  who  knew 
just  where  Sitting  Bull  was  located  and  how  to 
get  there.    I  also  wanted  a  first-class  interpreter, 


310      BUFFALO  BELL'S  OWN  STOKY 

as  I  would  have  matters  to  discuss  with  Sitting 
Bull  beyond  his  mastery  of  English  or  mine  of 
Sioux  to  express.  At  last  I  found  a  man  who 
agreed  to  go  with  me  as  guide  for  five  hundred 
dollars,  which  I  promised  him  without  a  protest. 
Then  I  went  over  to  the  post-trader's  store  and 
bought  all  manner  of  presents  which  I  knew  would 
be  acceptable  to  Sitting  Bull,  his  squaw,  and  his 
children. 

When  I  returned  to  Colonel  Brown's  quarters 
he  endeavored  once  more  to  put  me  off.  But  I 
would  not  be  put  off.  I  informed  him  that  I 
had  explicit  orders  from  General  Miles  as  to 
my  mission,  and  that  if  he  interfered  with 
me  he  was  violating  the  orders  of  his  com- 
manding officer  and  running  into  very  serious 
trouble. 

At  last  he  reluctantly  sent  for  the  quartermas- 
ter, and  ordered  him  to  have  a  span  of  good  mules 
hitched  to  a  light  spring-wagon. 

The  wagon  was  driven  to  the  post-trader's 
store,  where  I  found  my  guide  and  interpreter, 
and  loaded  aboard  the  presents  I  had  bought  for 
the  old  warrior.  With  plenty  of  robes  to  keep 
out  the  intense  cold,  we  started  out  on  our  jour- 
ney, a  little  apprehensive,  but  fully  determined 
to  go  through  with  it.  Five  or  six  miles  from 
the  Post  we  met  three  men  in  a  wagon  driving 
toward  the  Agency.  They  told  us  that  Sitting 
Bull's  camp  had  been  lately  moved,  and  that  it 
was  now  further  down  the  river.  I  knew  that  if 
the  old  man  was  really  on  the  warpath  he  would 


BUFFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STORY      311 

be  moving  up  tlie  river,  not  down,  so  I  felt  con- 
siderably reassured. 

When  we  bad  proceeded  a  few  miles  further 
we  heard  a  yell  behind  us,  and,  looking  back,  saw 
a  rider  approaching  at  full  speed.  This  proved 
to  be  one  of  Major  McLaughlin's  Indian  scouts. 
He  bore  a  telegram  reading: 

Colonel  William  F.  Cody,  Fort  Yates,  N.  D.: 

The  order  for  the  detention  of  Sitting  Bull  has  been  rescinded. 
You  are  hereby  ordered  to  return  to  Chicago  and  report  to 
General  Miles. 

Benjamin  Harbison,  President. 

That  ended  my  mission  to  Sitting  Bull.  I  still 
believe  I  could  have  got  safely  through  the  coun- 
try, though  there  were  plenty  of  chances  that  I 
would  be  killed  or  wounded  in  the  attempt. 

I  returned  to  the  Post,  turned  back  my  presents 
at  a  loss  to  myself,  and  paid  the  interpreter  fifty 
dollars  for  his  day's  work.  He  was  very  glad 
to  have  the  fifty  and  a  whole  skin,  for  he  could 
jUot  figure  how  the  five  hundred  would  be  of 
much  help  to  him  if  he  had  been  stretched  out 
on  the  Plains  with  an  Indian  bullet  through 
him. 

I  was  supplied  with  conveyance  back  to  Mandan 
by  Colonel  Brown  and  took  my  departure  the  next 
morning.  Afterward,  in  Indianapolis,  President 
Harrison  informed  me  that  he  had  allowed  himself 
to  be  persuaded  against  my  mission  in  opposition 
to  his  own  judgment,  and  said  he  was  very  sorry 
that  he  had  not  allowed  me  to  proceed. 


312      BUFFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STORY 

It  developed  afterward  tliat  the  people  who  had 
moved  the  President  to  interfere  consisted  of  a 
party  of  philanthropists  who  advanced  the  argu- 
ment that  my  visit  would  precipitate  a  war  in 
which  Sitting  Bull  would  be  killed,  and  it  was 
to  spare  the  life  of  this  man  that  I  was 
stopped ! 

The  result  of  the  President's  order  was  that 
the  Ghost  Dance  War  followed  very  shortly,  and 
with  it  came  the  death  of  Sitting  Bull. 

I  found  that  General  Miles  knew  exactly  why 
I  had  been  turned  back  from  my  trip  to  Sitting 
Bull.  But  he  was  a  soldier,  and  made  no  criticism 
of  the  order  of  a  superior.  General  Miles  was 
glad  to  hear  that  I  had  been  made  a  brigadier- 
general,  but  he  was  still  more  pleased  with 
the  fact  that  I  knew  so  many  Indians  at  the 
Agency. 

**You  can  get  around  among  them,"  he  said, 
*'and  learn  their  intentions  better  than  any  other 
man  I  know." 

I  remained  with  General  Miles  until  the  final 
surrender  of  the  North  American  Indians  to  the 
United  States  Government  after  three  hundred 
years  of  warfare. 

This  surrender  was  made  to  Miles,  then  lieuten- 
ant-general of  the  army,  and  it  was  eminently  fit- 
ting that  a  man  who  had  so  ably  conducted  the 
fight  of  the  white  race  against  them  and  had  dealt 
with  them  so  justly  and  honorably  should  have 
received  their  surrender. 

With  that  event  ended  one  of  the  most  pictu- 


BUFFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STORY      313 

Tesque  phases  of  Western  life — ^Indian  fighting. 
It  was  with  that  that  I  was  identified  from  my 
youth  to  my  middle  age,  and  in  the  time  I  spent 
on  the  Plains,  Indian  warfare  reached  its  greatest 
severity  and  its  highest  development. 


CHAPTER  Xm 

In  the  preceding  chapters  I  have  sketched  briefly 
some  of  the  most  interesting  of  my  adventures 
on  the  Plains.  It  has  been  necessary  to  omit 
much  that  I  would  like  to  have  told.  For  twenty 
years  my  life  was  one  of  almost  continuous  ex- 
citement, and  to  tell  the  whole  story  would  require 
many  volumes. 

It  was  because  of  my  great  interest  in  the  West, 
and  my  belief  that  its  development  would  be  as- 
sisted by  the  interest  I  could  awaken  in  others, 
that  I  decided  to  bring  the  West  to  the  East 
through  the  medium  of  the  Wild  West  Show. 
How  greatly  I  was  to  succeed  in  this  venture  I 
had  no  idea  when  it  first  occurred  to  me.  As  I 
have  told  you,  I  had  already  appeared  in  a  small 
Western  show,  and  was  the  first  man  to  bring 
Indians  to  the  East  and  exhibit  them.  But  the 
theater  was  too  small  to  give  any  real  impression 
of  what  Western  life  was  like.  Only  in  an  arena 
where  horses  could  be  ridden  at  full  gallop, 
where  lassos  could  be  thrown,  and  pistols  and 
guns  fired  without  frightening  the  audience 
half  to  death,  could  such  a  thing  be  at- 
tempted. 

After  getting  together  a  remarkable  collection 
of  Indians,  cowboys,  Indian  ponies,  stage-coach 
drivers,  and  other  typical  denizens  of  my  own 

814 


BUFFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STOEY      315 

country  under  canvas  I  found  myself  almost  im- 
mediately prosperous. 

We  showed  in  the  principal  cities  of  the  country, 
and  everywhere  the  novelty  of  the  exhibition  drew 
great  crowds.  As  owner  and  principal  actor  in 
the  enterprise  I  met  the  leading  citizens  of  the 
United  States  socially,  and  never  lost  an  oppor- 
tunity to  **talk  up*'  the  Western  country,  which 
I  believed  to  have  a  wonderful  future.  I  worked 
hard  on  the  program  of  the  entertainment,  taking 
care  to  make  it  realistic  in  every  detail.  The 
wigwam  village,  the  Indian  war-dance,  the  chant 
of  the  Great  Spirit  as  it  was  sung  on  the  Plains, 
the  rise  and  fall  of  the  famous  tribes,  were  all 
pictured  accurately. 

It  was  not  an  easy  thing  to  do.  Sometimes  I 
had  to  send  men  on  journeys  of  more  than  a  hun- 
dred miles  to  get  the  right  kind  of  war-bonnets, 
or  to  make  correct  copies  of  the  tepees  peculiar 
to  a  particular  tribe.  It  was  my  effort,  in  de- 
picting the  West,  to  depict  it  as  it  was.  I  was 
much  gratified  in  after  years  to  find  that  scientists 
who  had  carefully  studied  the  Indians,  their  tra- 
ditions and  habits,  gave  me  credit  for  making 
very  valuable  contributions  to  the  sum  of  human 
knowledge  of  the  American  native. 

The  first  presentation  of  my  show  was  given 
in  May,  1883,  at  Omaha,  which  I  had  then  chosen 
as  my  home.  From  there  we  made  our  first  sum- 
mer tour,  visiting  practically  every  important  city 
in  the  country.  ^ 

For  my  grand  entrance  I  made  a  spectacle  which 


316      BUFFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STORY 

comprised  the  most  picturesque  features  of  West- 
ern life.  Sioux,  Arapahoes,  Brules,  and  Chey- 
ennes  in  war-paint  and  feathers  led  the  van, 
shrieking  their  war-whoops  and  waving  the 
weapons  with  which  they  were  armed  in  a  man- 
ner to  inspire  both  terror  and  admiration  in  the 
tenderfoot  audience. 

Next  came  cowboys  and  soldiers,  all  clad 
exactly  as  they  were  when  engaged  in  their 
campaigns  against  the  Indians,  and  lumbering 
along  in  the  rear  were  the  old  stage-coaches 
which  carried  the  settlers  to  the  West  in  the 
days  before  the  railroad  made  the  journey  easy 
and  pleasant. 

I  am  sure  the  people  enjoyed  this  spectacle, 
for  they  flocked  in  crowds  to  see  it.  I  know  I 
enjoyed  it.  There  was  never  a  day  when,  look- 
ing back  over  the  red  and  white  men  in  my 
cavalcade,  I  did  not  know  the  thrill  of  the 
trail,  and  feel  a  little  sorry  that  my  Western 
adventures  would  thereafter  have  to  be  lived  in 
spectacles. 

Without  desiring  to  dim  the  glory  of  any  indi- 
vidual I  can  truthfully  state  that  the  expression 
''rough  riders,"  which  afterward  became  so  fa- 
mous, was  my  own  coinage.  As  I  rode  out  at  the 
front  of  my  parade  I  would  bow  to  the  audience, 
circled  about  on  the  circus  benches,  and  shout 
at  the  top  of  my  voice : 

**  Ladies  and  gentlemen,  permit  me  to  introduce 
you  to  the  rough  riders  of  the  world ! ' ' 

For  three  years  we  toured  the  United  States 


BUFFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STOEY      317 

with  great  success.  One  day  an  Englishman, 
whose  name  I  never  learned,  came  to  see  me  after 
the  show. 

**That  is  a  wonderful  performance,"  he  told 
me.  **Here  in  America  it  meets  with  great  ap- 
preciation, but  you  have  no  idea  what  a  sensa- 
tion it  would  be  in  the  Old  World,  where  such 
things  are  unheard  of.'' 

That  set  me  to  thinking.  In  a  few  days,  after 
spending  hours  together  considering  the  matter, 
I  had  made  up  my  mind  that  Europe  should  have 
an  opportunity  to  study  America  as  nearly  at 
first-hand  as  possible  through  the  medium  of  my 
entertainment. 

Details  were  soon  arranged.  In  March, 
1886,  I  chartered  the  steamer  State  of  Nebraska, 
loaded  my  Indians,  cowboys,  horses,  and  stage- 
coaches on  board,  and  set  sail  for  another  con- 
tinent. 

It  was  a  strange  voyage.  The  Indians  had 
never  been  to  sea  before,  and  had  never  dreamed 
that  such  an  expanse  of  water  existed  on  the 
planet.  They  would  stand  at  the  rail,  after  the 
first  days  of  seasickness  were  over,  gazing  out 
across  the  waves,  and  trying  to  descry  something 
that  looked  like  land,  or  a  tree,  or  anything  that 
seemed  familiar  and  like  home.  Then  they  would 
shake  their  heads  disconsolately  and  go  below, 
to  brood  and  muse  and  be  an  extremely  unhappy 
and  forlorn  lot  of  savages.  The  joy  that  seized 
them  when  at  last  they  came  in  sight  of  land, 
and  were  assured  that  we  did  not  intend  to  keep 


318      BUFFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STORY 

on  sailing  till  we  fell  over  the  edge  of  the  earth, 
was  something  worth  looking  at. 

At  Gravesend  we  sighted  a  tug  flying  the  Amer- 
ican colors,  and  when  the  band  on  board  responded 
to  our  cheers  with  **The  Star-Spangled  Banner'* 
even  the  Indians  tried  to  sing.  Our  band  replied 
with  ** Yankee  Doodle,"  and  as  we  moved  toward 
port  there  was  more  noise  on  board  than  I  had 
ever  heard  in  any  battle  on  the  Plains. 

When  the  landing  was  made  the  members  of  the 
party  were  sent  in  special  coaches  to  London. 
Crowds  stared  at  us  from  every  station.  The 
guards  on  the  train  were  a  little  afraid  of  the 
solemn  and  surly-looking  Indians,  but  they  were 
a  friendly  and  jovial  crowd,  and  when  they  had 
recovered  from  their  own  fright  at  the  strange 
surroundings  they  were  soon  on  good  terms  with 
the  Britishers. 

Major  John  M.  Burke,  who  was  my  lifetime 
associate  in  the  show  business,  had  made  all  ar- 
rangements for  housing  the  big  troupe.  We  went 
to  work  at  our  leisure  with  our  preparations  to 
astonish  the  British  public,  and  succeeded  beyond 
our  wildest  dreams.  The  big  London  amphithea- 
ter, a  third  of  a  mile  in  circumference,  was  just 
the  place  for  such  an  exhibition.  The  artist's 
brush  was  employed  on  lavish  scale  to  repro- 
duce the  scenery  of  the  Western  Plains.  I  was 
busy  for  many  days  with  preparations,  and  when 
our  spectacle  was  finally  given  it  was  received 
with  such  a  burst  of  enthusiasm  as  I  had  never 
witnessed  anywhere. 


BUFFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STOEY      319 

The  show  began,  after  the  grand  entry,  with 
the  hour  of  dawn  on  the  Plains.  Wild  animals 
were  scattered  about.  Within  their  tents  were 
the  Indians  sleeping.  As  the  dawn  deepened  the 
Indians  came  out  of  their  tents  and  went  through 
one  of  their  solemn  and  impressive  war-dances. 
While  this  was  going  on  the  British  audience  held 
its  breath.  You  could  have  heard  a  whisper  in 
almost  any  part  of  the  arena. 

Then  in  came  a  courier  to  announce  the  neigh- 
borhood of  a  hostile  tribe.  Instantly  there  was  a 
wild  scramble  for  mounts  and  weapons.  The  en- 
emy rushed  in,  and  for  ten  minutes  there  was  a 
sham  battle  which  filled  the  place  with  noise  and 
confusion.  This  battle  was  copied  as  exactly  as 
it  could  be  copied  from  one  of  the  scrimmages  in 
which  I  had  taken  part  in  my  first  days  as  a  scout. 
Then  we  gave  them  a  buffalo  hunt,  in  which  I  had 
a  hand,  and  did  a  little  fancy  shooting.  As  a  finish 
there  was  a  Wild  Western  cyclone,  and  a  whole 
Indian  village  was  blown  out  of  existence  for  the 
delectation  of  the  English  audience. 

The  initial  performance  was  given  before  the 
Prince  and  Princess  of  Wales,  afterward  King 
Edward  and  his  Queen,  and  their  suite.  At  the 
close  of  the  program  the  Prince  and  Princess,  at 
their  own  request,  were  introduced  to  all  the  lead- 
ing members  of  the  company,  including  many  of 
the  Indians.  When  the  cowgirls  of  the  show  were 
presented  to  the  Princess  they  stepped  forward 
and  offered  their  hands,  which  were  taken  and 
well  shaken  in  true  democratic  fashion. 


320      BUFFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STOEY 

Eed  Shirt,  the  most  important  chief  in  the  out- 
fit, was  highly  pleased  when  he  learned  that  a 
princess  was  to  visit  him  in  his  camp.  He  had 
the  Indian  gift  of  oratory,  and  he  replied  to  her 
greeting  with  a  long  and  eloquent  speech,  in 
which  his  gestures,  if  not  his  words,  expressed 
plainly  the  honor  he  felt  in  receiving  so  distin- 
guished a  lady.  The  fact  that  he  referred  to 
Alexandria  as  a  squaw  did  not  seem  to  mar  her 
enjoyment. 

That  the  Prince  was  really  pleased  with  the  ex- 
hibition was  shown  by  the  fact  that  he  made  an 
immediate  report  of  it  to  his  mother.  Shortly 
thereafter  I  received  a  command  from  Queen 
Victoria  to  appear  before  her. 

This  troubled  me  a  good  deal — ^not  that  I  was 
not  more  than  eager  to  obey  this  flattering  com- 
mand, but  that  I  was  totally  at  a  loss  how  to  take 
my  show  to  any  of  the  great  residences  occupied 
by  Her  Majesty. 

Finally,  after  many  cautious  inquiries,  I  dis- 
covered that  she  would  be  willing  to  visit  the  show 
if  a  special  box  was  prepared  for  her.  This  we 
did  to  the  best  of  our  ability.  The  box  was  placed 
upon  a  dais  covered  with  crimson  velvet  and  hand- 
somely decorated.  When  the  Queen  arrived  I  met 
her  at  the  door  of  the  box,  with  my  sombrero  in 
my  hand  and  welcomed  her  to  **the  Wild  West  of 
America. ' ' 

One  of  the  first  acts  in  the  performance  was 
to -carry  the  flag  to  the  front.  This  was  done 
by  a   soldier.     Walking  around  the  arena,  he 


BUFFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STORY      321 

offered  the  Stars  and  Stripes  as  an  emblem  of 
the  friendship  of  America  to  all  the  world.  On 
this  occasion  he  carried  the  flag  directly  to  the 
royal  box,  and  dipped  it  three  times  before  the 
Queen. 

Absolute  silence  fell  over  the  great  throng. 
Then  the  Queen  rose  and  saluted  the  flag  with  a 
bow,  her  suite  following  her  example.  There 
was  a  wild  cheer  from  everyone  in  the  show, 
Indians  included,  and  soon  all  the  audience  was 
on  its  feet,  cheering  and  waving  flags  and  hand- 
kerchiefs. 

This  gave  us  a  fine  start  and  we  never  put  on 
a  better  performance.  When  it  was  all  over  Her 
Majesty  sent  for  me,  and  paid  me  many  com- 
pliments as  well  as  to  my  country  and  the  West. 
I  found  her  a  most  gracious  and  charming  woman, 
with  none  of  the  haughtiness  which  I  had  supposed 
was  inseparable  from  a  person  of  such  exalted 
rank.  My  subsequent  experiences  with  royalty 
convinced  me  that  there  is  more  real  democracy 
among  the  rulers  of  the  countries  of  Europe  than 
you  will  find  among  the  petty  officials  of  a 
village.         Bhiicrott  Library 

It  was  interesting  to  watch  old  Red  Shirt  when 
he  was  presented  to  the  Queen.  He  clearly  felt 
that  this  was  a  ceremony  between  one  ruler  and 
another,  and  the  dignity  with  which  he  went 
through  the  introduction  was  wonderful  to  behold. 
One  would  have  thought  to  watch  him  that  most 
of  his  life  was  spent  in  introductions  to  kings  and 
queens,  and  that  he  was  really  a  little  bored  with 


322      BUFFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STOBY 

the  effort  required  to  go  through  with  them.  A 
second  command  from  the  Queen  resulted  in  an 
exhibition  before  a  number  of  her  royal  guests, 
including  the  Kings  of  Saxony,  Denmark,  and 
Greece,  the  Queen  of  the  Belgians,  and  the  Crown 
Prince  of  Austria. 

The  Deadwood  coach,  one  of  the  features  of 
the  show,  was  of  particular  interest  to  my  royal 
guests.  This  was  a  coach  with  a  history.  It  was 
built  in  Concord,  N.  H.,  and  sent  by  water  to  San 
Francisco  to  run  over  a  route  infested  with  road- 
agents.  A  number  of  times  it  was  held  up  and 
robbed.  Finally,  both  driver  and  passengers  were 
killed  and  the  coach  abandoned  on  the  trail.  It 
remained  for  a  long  time  a  derelict,  but  was  after- 
ward brought  into  San  Francisco  by  an  old  stage- 
driver  and  placed  on  the  Overland  trail. 

As  it  worked  its  way  East  over  the  Overland 
route  its  old  luck  held  steadily.  Again  were  driver 
and  passengers  massacred;  again  it  was  aban- 
doned. At  last,  when  it  was  ** hoodooed"  all 
over  the  West  and  no  independent  driver  or 
company  would  have  anything  to  do  with  it  I 
discovered  it,  bought  it,  and  used  it  for  my 
show. 

One  of  the  incidents  of  my  program,  as  all  who 
have  seen  it  will  remember,  was  an  Indian  attack 
on  this  coach.  The  royal  visitors  wanted  a  real 
taste  of  Western  life — insisted  on  it,  in  fact,  and 
the  Kings  of  Denmark,  Greece,  Saxony,  and  the 
Crown  Prince  of  Austria  climbed  to  the  box  with 
me. 


BUFFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STORY      323 

I  had  secretly  instructed  the  Indians  to  throw 
a  little  real  energy  into  their  pursuit  of  the  coach, 
and  they  followed  my  instructions  rather  more 
completely  than  I  expected.  The  coach  was  sur- 
rounded by  a  demoniac  band  of  shooting  and 
shouting  Indians.  Blank  cartridges  were  dis- 
charged at  perilously  close  proximity  to  the  rulers 
of  four  great  nations.  Looking  around  to  quiet 
my  followers,  I  saw  that  the  guests  of  the  occa- 
sion were  a  trifle  pale,  but  they  were  all  of  them 
game,  and  came  out  of  the  affair  far  less  scared 
than  were  the  absolutely  terrified  members  of 
the  royal  suites,  who  sat  in  their  boxes  and  wrung 
their  hands  in  wild  alarm. 

In  recognition  of  this  performance  the  Prince 
of  Wales  sent  me  a  souvenir  consisting  of  a  feath- 
ered crest,  outlined  in  diamonds,  with  the  words 
**Ich  dien''  worked  in  jewels  underneath.  A  note 
in  the  Prince's  own  hand  expressed  the  pleasure 
of  his  guests  in  the  entertainment  I  had  provided 
for  them. 

After  a  tour  of  the  principal  cities  we  returned 
to  America,  proud  of  our  success,  and  well  re- 
warded in  purse  for  our  effort. 

The  welcome  to  America  was  almost  as  elab- 
orate as  that  from  England.  I  quote  from  the 
description  of  it  printed  in  the  New  York 
World: 

The  harbor  probably  has  never  witnessed  a  more  picturesque 
scene  than  that  of  yesterday,  when  the  Persian  Monarch  steamed 
up  from  Quarantine.  Buffalo  Bill  stood  on  the  captain's  bridge, 
his  tall  and  striking  figure  clearly  outlined,  and  his  long  hair 


324      BUFFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STORY 

waving  in  the  wind;  the  gaily  painted  and  blanketed  Indians 
leaned  over  the  ship's  rail;  the  flags  of  all  nations  fluttered 
from  the  masts  and  connecting  cables.  The  cowboy  band  played 
"Yankee  Doodle"  with  a  vim  and  enthusiasm  which  faintly  indi- 
cated the  joy  felt  by  everybody  connected  with  the  "Wild  West" 
over  the  sight  of  home. 

Shortly  after  my  arrival  I  was  mucli  pleased 
by  the  receipt  of  the  following  letter : 

Fifth  Avenue  Hotel,  New  Yobk. 
Colonel  Wm.  F.  Cody: 

Dear  Sir — In  common  with  all  your  countrymen,  I  want  to 
let  you  know  that  I  am  not  only  gratified  but  proud  of  your 
management  and  success.  So  far  as  I  can  make  out,  you  have 
been  modest,  graceful,  and  dignified  in  all  you  have  done  to 
illustrate  the  history  of  civilization  on  this  continent  during  the 
past  century.  I  am  especially  pleased  with  the  compliment  paid 
you  by  the  Prince  of  Wales,  who  rode  with  you  in  the  Deadwood 
coach  while  it  was  attacked  by  Indians  and  rescued  by  cowboys. 
Such  things  did  occur  in  our  days,  but  they  never  will  again. 

As  nearly  as  I  can  estimate,  there  were  in  1865  about  nine 
and  one-half  million  of  buffaloes  on  the  Plains  between  the 
Missouri  River  and  the  Rocky  Mountains;  all  are  now  gone, 
killed  for  their  meat,  their  skins,  and  their  bones.  This  seems 
like  desecration,  cruelty,  and  murder,  yet  they  have  been  re- 
placed by  twice  as  many  cattle.  At  that  date  there  were  about 
165,000  Pawnees,  Sioux,  Cheyennes,  and  Arapahoes,  who  de- 
pended upon  these  buffaloes  for  their  yearly  food.  They,  too, 
have  gone,  but  they  have  been  replaced  by  twice  or  thrice  as 
many  white  men  and  women,  who  have  made  the  earth  to 
blossom  as  the  rose,  and  who  can  be  counted,  taxed,  and  gov- 
erned by  the  laws  of  Nature  and  civilization.  This  change  has 
been  salutary,  and  will  go  on  to  the  end.  You  have  caught  one 
epoch  of  this  country's  history,  and  have  illustrated  it  in  the 
very  heart  of  the  modern  world — London — and  I  want  you  to 
feel  that  on  this  side  of  the  water  we  appreciate  it. 

This  drama  must  end;  days,  years,  and  centuries  follow  fast; 
even  the  drama  of  civilization  must  have  an  end.  All  I  aim 
to  accomplish  on  this  sheet  of  paper  is  to  assure  you  that  I 


BUFFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STOEY      325 

fully  recognize  your  work.  The  presence  of  the  Queen,  the 
beautiful  Princess  of  Wales,  the  Prince,  and  the  British  public 
are  marks  of  favor  which  reflect  back  on  America  sparks  of 
light  which  illimiinate  many  a  house  and  cabin  in  the  land 
where  once  you  guided  me  honestly  and  faithfully,  in  1865-66, 
from  Fort  Riley  to  Kearney,  in  Kansas  and  Nebraska. 
Sincerely  your  friend, 

W.  T.  Shebman. 

Our  next  descent  on  Europe  was  made  in  the 
steamer  Persian  Monarch,  which  was  again  char- 
tered. This  time  our  destination  was  France.  The 
Parisians  received  the  show  with  as  much  favor 
as  had  the  Londoners. 

Everything  American  became  the  fad  during 
our  stay.  Fashionable  young  men  bought  Ameri- 
can and  Mexican  saddles  for  their  rides  in  the 
Bois.  Cowboy  hats  appeared  everywhere  on  the 
street.  There  was  a  great  cry  for  stories  of  the 
Plains  and  all  the  books  that  could  be  found  that 
dealt  with  the  West  were  translated  into  the 
French  language.  Eelics  from  the  Plains  and 
mountains,  bows,  moccasins,  and  Indian  baskets, 
sold  like  hot  cakes  in  the  souvenir  stores. 

While  in  the  city  I  accepted  an  invitation  from 
Eosa  Bonheur  to  visit  her  at  her  superb  chateau. 
In  return  I  extended  her  the  freedom  of  the  show, 
and  she  made  many  studies  from  life  of  the  fine 
animals  I  had  brought  over  with  me.  She  also 
painted  a  portrait  of  me  on  my  favorite  horse — 
a  picture  which  I  immediately  sent  home  to  my 
wife. 

Our  sojourn  in  Eome  was  lively  with  incident. 
The  Prince  of  Simonetta,  who  visited  the  show, 


326      BUFFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STOKY 

declared  that  he  had  some  wild  horses  in  his  stable 
which  no  cowboy  could  ride.  The  challenge  was 
promptly  taken  up  by  some  of  the  dare-devils  in 
my  party.  That  the  horses  might  not  run  amuck 
and  injure  anyone,  special  booths  were  erected 
in  the  show  arena,  where  the  trial  was  to  be 
made. 

The  greatest  enthusiasm  was  manifested  by  the 
Romans  in  the  performance,  and  it  was  clear  to 
me  that  most  of  them  looked  eagerly  forward  to 
the  mortal  injury  of  some  of  the  members  of  my 
company.  The  Latin  delight  in  sports  like  those 
of  the  old  Eoman  arena  had  by  no  means  died 
out. 

When  the  horses  were  loosed  in  the  ring  they 
sprang  into  the  air,  snorted,  kicked  up  their  heels, 
and  plainly  defied  any  of  the  cowboys  to  do  so 
much  as  to  lay  a  hand  on  them.  But  in  less  time 
than  I  can  tell  it  the  plainsmen  had  sent  their 
lassos  hurtling  through  the  air,  and  the  horses 
discovered  that  they  had  met  their  masters.  The 
audience,  always  strong  for  the  winners,  forgot 
their  disappointment  in  the  absence  of  fatalities, 
and  howled  with  delight  as  the  cowboys,  one  after 
another,  mounted  the  fractious  horses  and  trotted 
them  submissively  about  the  arena.  We  closed 
this  tour  of  Europe,  which  was  successful  to  the 
end,  with  a  second  visit  to  England. 

I  have  now  come  to  the  end  of  my  story.  It  is 
a  story  of  **The  Great  West  that  Was,''  a  West 
that  is  gone  forever. 


BUFFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STORY      327 

All  my  interests  are  still  with  the  West — ^the 
modern  West.  I  have  a  number  of  homes  there, 
the  one  I  love  best  being  in  the  wonderful  Big 
Horn  Valley,  which  I  hope  one  day  to  see  one 
of  the  garden  spots  of  the  world. 

In  concluding,  I  want  to  express  the  hope  that 
the  dealings  of  this  Government  of  ours  with  the 
Indians  will  always  be  just  and  fair.  They  were 
the  inheritors  of  the  land  that  we  live  in.  They 
were  not  capable  of  developing  it,  or  of  really 
appreciating  its  possibilities,  but  they  owned  it 
when  the  White  Man  came,  and  the  White  Man 
took  it  away  from  them.  It  was  natural  that 
they  should  resist.  It  was  natural  that  they  em- 
ployed the  only  means  of  warfare  known  to  them 
against  those  whom  they  regarded  as  usurpers. 
It  was  our  business,  as  scouts,  to  be  continually 
on  the  warpath  against  them  when  they  com- 
mitted depredations.  But  no  scout  ever  hated 
the  Indians  in  general. 

There  have  been  times  when  the  Government 
policy  toward  the  Indians  has  been  unwise  and 
unjust.  That  time,  I  trust,  has  passed  forever. 
There  are  still  many  thousand  Indians  in  the  coun- 
try, most  of  them  engaged  in  agricultural  pur- 
suits. Indian  blood  has  added  a  certain  rugged 
strength  to  the  characters  of  many  of  our  Western 
citizens.  At  least  two  United  States  Senators  are 
part  Indian,  and  proud  of  it. 

The  Indian  makes  a  good  citizen,  a  good  farmer, 
a  good  soldier.  He  is  a  real  American,  and  all 
those  of  uc  who  have  come  to  share  with  him 


328      BUFFALO  BILL'S  OWN  STOEY 

the  great  land  that  was  his  heritage  should  do 
their  share  toward  seeing  that  he  is  dealt  with 
justly  and  fairly,  and  that  his  rights  and  liberties 
are  never  infringed  by  the  scheming  politician 
or  the  short-sighted  administration  of  law. 


THE  END 


